


TPWP-Unrevised Edition

by TehLadyCav



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Dark, Death, Depression, Dubious Consent, F/M, Love Triangles, POV Multiple, Sexual Confusion, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:10:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 50
Words: 126,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehLadyCav/pseuds/TehLadyCav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>****Currently being edited for re-posting in the future. Patience is appreciated****</p><p>Nayna's a fierce, loyal, protective woman. Like Daryl, she works best alone, but unlike him, she doesn't want to be alone. She's always wanted to belong, and she's finally found her place. She's become Rick's confidant, his friend, the one he can rely on. And he's her rock when things are rough. All of that changes with the arrival of Negan and the Saviors. It is Rick who sells her out to Negan, sending her on a traumatic journey, in order to protect the ones they love the most. It's the price they pay for safety and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dear Diary

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying something a little different. I absolutely adore The Walking Dead. I've read some of the comics (just don't have the money to devote to them all, but soon my pretties!) and I've seen almost all of the show (catching up I swear!). I want to do a little something different. Something that's going to loosely follow the comics and loosely follow the TV, but it will split off pretty quickly. This is a new project for me, I usually write Skyrim fanfiction, and I realize, that I'm going to be sorta using my Skyrim character for this fic too, but mostly just the name because that's how she is in my head. Anyway, I want to write and explore the depth of the human psyche under extreme psychological stress. 
> 
> An aside, I've written this as if my character has been with the group since Atlanta. Simply to make the story flow better. Because I want to focus on Negan and his storyline, I won't be writing about past seasons, etc. I may write a prequel some day, if there is enough interest.
> 
> Warning, there will be graphic depictions of sex. Of gore. Of backward thinking. Of terrible, terrible decisions based on said backward thinking. And the sex will be of dubious consent. Lots of dubious consent. I am also exploring different POV's as well as inserting diary entries. Please, if it is confusing, let me know and I will adjust.
> 
> This story will be a work in progress and I'm sure, like my Skyrim stuff, I will take it down and edit the hell out of it and repost. For now, I want to see where Negan takes us.
> 
> And of course, I don't own the Walking Dead. I just use it for my inspiration.
> 
> All journal entries will be in bold. All POV chapters will be clearly labelled to avoid confusion.

Entry Number 1

**I fucking hate journaling but I know if I don't start this now, I may never regain myself. I am doing this for the good of the community. For us. For Rick, Carl, Michonne, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, Carol, Morgan, Judith, Sasha. For Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, Tara, even fucking Father Gabriel. I am doing this to keep what we have gained, so all is not lost.**

**I don’t even know what day it is. I would have to ask Eugene or Morgan. I can barely remember the year.**

**The beginning of the end started in May of 2013. Glenn and Shane found me atop a tour bus in late June and Rick joined us shortly thereafter. Its nearly summer again, so if I had to chance a guess its been almost three years. Three years seems a lifetime ago, like a misty veiled dream. Judith wasn’t even alive three years ago. Carl was only 12. Lori and Shane and Jim and all the others were still alive.**

**Rick and I have been through it all together. As silly as it sounds, he leans on me far too much for my liking. But hes been the best friend I never thought I needed. We’ve gone on runs together, been holed up in smelly stores, lost family and friends. He brings me up and encourages me to be my best, while I reel him back when hes too much.**

**At least that’s how it was before....Before Negan and his men rolled into our Safe Zone and claimed our shit. And before Negan noticed me.**

**Rick sold me out.**

**They who give up liberty for temporary safety deserve neither. I believed in that quote with all the fierceness in my heart. But that was before. Now safety is no longer a guarantee like it was in the Old World. Its the New World and shit just got serious.**

**When we came to Alexandria we were war weary, nearly beaten. And then Deanna gave us hope. As much as I internally scorned the Alexandrians, I envied them and their careless way of living, their freedom. Where the worst problem was not enough chocolate in their rations. I knew it would be hard for us to adjust. Even I grated my teeth at times, though I tried to be kind. When you've lived on the outside long enough, it becomes who you are. It begins to define you. Michonne swears it's not true, but I'm not so sure anymore. I don't know who I am anymore. Everyday since I jumped into the Anacostia River has been further and further from who I thought I was. My ideals and morals have changed fundamentally.**

**Oh, at first I was righteous. I told Dale that I would never do anything that I considered crossing a line. Which I suppose is still true, but now the line is being drawn further and further from my humanity. I never thought I could kill an innocent person and not think twice about it. I always upheld the law, discouraged chaos. Now I was a cruel killing machine with little to no remorse for those who stood in the way of my family. Or maybe this is who I always was, I just never knew it. But deep down inside, there is still a part of me who won't cross the line I've drawn. The line stands between me and letting everyone else perish to save myself. That is the current line, of course.**

**I'm rambling. Back to Alexandria.**

**We were feral, wild animals brought into the zoo for preservation. Deanna thought we could help the Alexandrians cope with the outside world. They were soft, reminding me of our campsite days. Dale dozing in his chair on the RV, his rifle slanted in his lap. Shane kicking the CB, cursing it for not working. Glenn darting in and out of the city for supplies. Sophia and Carl doing lessons with Carol and Lori. Those days were the soft, golden glow which I could have lived on forever. These days were bleak and gray, two days after a winter storm in DC, with slush and blackened snow piled vulgarly on the sides of the road.**

**Of course the safe zone was safe. Until it wasn’t and the walls came down. We fought off the horde, but lost a lot of good men and women that day, innocents, green as grass, as well as those who had succumbed to the Wolves earlier. But we pushed through and through and through. Just like we did at the prison. Its only a matter of time before this place is turned into the prison, overrun and empty of the living. It's only a matter of time before I'm the prison, an empty shell that once held hope, happiness and love. And it's all because of Rick.**

 


	2. And So We Meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said that I would be diverging PDQ from the TV and comics? Starting off right now. I've changed the way they meet Negan and what happens during the meeting to fit better with the flow of the story. Carol never leaves. No one goes after her. Daryl doesn't leave. It's been a while since the last attack.  
> Enjoy!

NAYNA

That morning started like any other. Several weeks had passed since their last run-in with the Saviors. Rick and Nayna were still on high alert, but the rest of the community had begun to relax. The Saviors were like fucking rats. Where there was one, there were a hundred more.

Nayna woke up to Judy yelling from the room next door. Itt was her turn to get up with Judith and make breakfast for everyone. She sighed and rolled out of bed, wiping her eyes as she stuffed herself in her usual affair. Leggings, a cami, a stretchy T-shirt and a pocketed cargo vest, only zipped up half way because it didn't fit over her boobs. Her steel-toed combat boots were downstairs.

Fumbling with her satchel, she pulled out the small comb and yanked the knots from her long, brown hair. Just as she did every day, she braided it down her shoulder, securing it with a hair tie. She swept her stray bangs from her forehead and shuffled over to the bathroom.

Just another ordinary morning, like all the ones before.

She stumbled her way into the baby's room and failed to suppress a laugh as Judy squealed with glee, bouncing up and down.

“Hey, Judy booty girl,” Nayna cooed as she picked the baby up. “You're seriously silly, you know that?”

Judy clapped her hands in delight and Nayna laughed and kissed the little face. Maggie was right. She looked so much like Lori. 

After changing her diaper and clothes for the day, Nayna padded downstairs, sliding Judy into the highchair. She dumped some 'chee-chee-o's' on the tray and ambled over to the fridge. 

For the first time in years, they had fresh milk and actual eggs, and real meat, thanks to the deal Maggie had struck with Hilltop and of course compliments of Daryl's hunting. Oh how she missed hunting.

Nayna set out the pots and pans and began making scrambled eggs and frying venison sausage. 

As she was stirring the eggs Rick sauntered into the kitchen, sniffing loudly. “Smells good in here.”

“Hah, it better,” she quipped and grinned at Rick. “Judy wake you up?”

“Yeah, but I needed to get an early start anyway. Need to go over the plans for the supply run and the new fortifications.”

“Need help?”

“Yeah, I'd like your opinion.”

She grinned as she turned over the sausage. “Mmm you know just what to say to turn me on, man.”

Rick laughed as he bent to kiss Judy's curly head. “Yeah well don't get too hard. Still got a lot of shit to do today.”

“Uhhh DAHHH,” Judy cried swinging her legs, reaching her chubby arms out to Rick. 

“Baaaaaaby,” Nayna sang back, swiping Judith's nose. She giggled in return and Nayna smiled softly.

Rick sat at the table, spreading out blueprints, leaning over to study them. Oh she had a lady boner alright. She turned back to the eggs, adding salt.

The front door swung open and slammed shut. “Yo, anybody here?”

“We're in the kitchen,” Nayna called out to Daryl.

Upstairs Nayna heard Michonne turning on the shower.

“Carol stay at Tobin's last night?” Nayna asked casually. 

“Yeah, why?” Daryl kicked out a chair and swung his leg over it, resting his forearms on the back.

“She didn't come home last night, so I just wanted to make sure.”

“No, you're just nosy,” Rick said, a grin on his face.

Nayna made like she was going to throw the spatula at him, but he and Daryl only laughed.

“You want a plate Daryl?”She asked motioning to the food.

“Nah, Aaron and I got a thing.”

She raised her eyebrows. “A date?”

“Not funny.”

Nayna snorted. “I meant a bro date, stop being homophobic.”

“Yeah yeah, I'm aware of your damn big mouth. One of these days you're gonna get smacked for it.”

“I'd love to see your redneck ass try,” she scoffed as she scraped the eggs and sausages on a plate.

“Oh I'd do more than try.”

“Mm, is that a promise, Daryl?”

Daryl flipped his shaggy hair from his face. “Anyway, I just wanted to stop by to let y'all know that I'm goin hunting. Any requests?”

“No more squirrel!” Nayna joked.

“Oh you're gonna eat my squirrel and you're gonna like it.”

She giggled and wrinkled her nose as she handed Rick four empty plates with cutlery piled on top. “Ew Daryl, just ew.”

“Hey, it wasn't my perverted mind that went there.”

Nayna snorted. “Hey, I only look sweet and innocent.”

Daryl shook his head and pushed himself up. “Whatever. Later.”

“Later,” Nayna and Rick echoed over the slamming door.

“You two should just have sex and be done with it,” Rick laughed.

Nayna made a face. “I love Daryl but I prefer men who....”

“Shower?”

A snort escaped her and Rick shook his own shaggy head. “Stop match making. I know you're happy with Michonne and all, but that doesn't mean you need to get me laid.”

“Who's getting laid?” Michonne asked playfully from the doorway.

“Rick is trying to set me up with Daryl.”

“Why not? He's a good guy...And I'm sure you could convince him to shower with you.”

“I hate you both. Go be in love over there. Away from me,” teased Nayna, as she dumped ketchup on her plate.

“Gross,” Rick said.

“Then don't eat it!”

Carl stumbled down the stairs. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Rick said, reaching over to ruffle Carl's hair.

The four of them ate in relaxed silence, cherishing the freshness of the food, while Judy happily babbled away as Rick fed her eggs. Just another normal day. Where Nayna was the fifth wheel. 

After breakfast they looked over Rick's blueprints and a map of the area, while Carl did the dishes.

Nayna tapped her fingers on her chin. “I like the idea of alternating the spikes. You know, the shit we used at the prison to reenforce security. Instead of just a row of spike, we should alternate them, makeshift barriers to slow them down or the Saviors....I'm also for moving the supports of the wall to the outside. Too unstable on the inside....And we really need walkies and to put people outside the walls as lookouts—no, not outside, outside, but in a tower or an outpost. I don't think Negan was wrong having an outpost. I think it's smart.”

Rick rubbed his beard. “I'm no engineer. But you're right about the rest. Thing is, can we afford to have that many people out there?”

“We could make it work. Have people out there in pairs. And ask Eugene about the supports,” Michonne said.

He nodded. “True.”

Nayna tucked her leg under her, leaning over the map. “What about the supply run?”

Rick sighed. “Our best bet is DC.”

She shook her head. “Yeah, no. That's going to be Atlanta all over again.”

Rick's burrow furrowed. “I know, but it's our best bet...Just think of all the weaponry...”

“I'm sure the first places people hit were the FBI, the CIA, Metro PD. I doubt we could even access them if we wanted to. It'd be horde central, and DC is one big square. We'd be fucked inside out if we turned down the wrong alleyway.”

“I bet we could.”

“Rick, no. They were putting law enforcement down...”

“Nayna...”

She glanced over at Michonne who put her hand over Rick's. “You know she's right.”

“Look, you want weapons, we should go to Quantico. There's a USMC base right there. Less likely to be overrun...”

Rick looked at the map. “It's also pretty fucking far away, I'm not comfortable leaving the group for that long, especially with the Saviors being out there still. We don't know what they're going to do...”

“Yeah, I know...” Nayna sighed, chewing on her thumbnail.

“We'll have to get with Heath and Glenn and see what they have to say,” said Michonne.

“Okay, just presenting the options.”

Rick sighed. “I know.”

 

The rest of the day was as uneventful as breakfast. An utterly normal day. Until the arrival of Negan and his men.

Nayna was sitting on the porch, swinging her leg, staring at the sunset. She would never admit it to Rick or Michonne, but she was lonely. She had them of course, the group. But she missed the intimacy of sleeping pressed against someones back. Of someone holding her in the dark, kissing her, touching her. And Nayna wasn't the kind of girl to go looking for that without a steady partner. With William, her husband, gone there was no point. She let Rick and them in, but only onto the porch, never inside the house. She knew opening that door would bring her a whole world of problems.

It was nearly summer, so while the days were hot, the nights still held a chill to them. She'd stuffed herself into a loose, flowy sweater and wrapped it around her. It would be dark soon, time to sleep. The sky was already an overcast lavender with trailed shots of pink.

In the distance she could hear sneakers pounding on the pavement. She stood up and leaned over the railing to see Sasha coming at her full force.

“Nayna!” She panted, stopping on the grass in front of the house. “Get Rick....We have...company. It's Negan.”

She stared at Sasha for a good thirty seconds, blinking, before she spoke. “Fuck me, how many?”

“I dunno,” Sasha leaned on her knees grunting, her rifle sagging on her shoulder. “A dozen men from what I saw, maybe more.”

Nayna rubbed her hand over her brow. “Fuck me. Alright um, go find Daryl and Abraham. I want everyone, and I mean EVERYONE armed to the teeth. This might....Did you let them in yet?”

“No, Spencer is holding them off.”

“Great...Okay, no one lets them in, until Rick and I get there, got it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good. Go find Daryl and Abraham and then have them fan out and distribute guns. And Sasha?”

“Yeah?”

“Constant vigilance. We've killed a fuckton of their men. Who the fuck knows what's going to happen here tonight. Whatever it is, be prepared.”

Nayna swiveled on the ball of her foot, not looking back at Sasha. She stormed into the house where Rick and Michonne were sitting, close, and chatting. She was shaking.

“Nayna?” Michonne saw her face first. “What is it?”

“We've got a problem. Where's Carl?”

“What sort of problem?” Rick turned to look at her.

“Negan and his men are here. Where's Carl?”

“Upstairs...”

“Okay, he needs to sit here with Judith then. I'm going to get Maggie and Glenn and I'll send Enid over. Michonne can you round everyone up and make sure they're armed? Sasha went to get Abraham and Daryl. Spencer's at the gate.”

She and Rick exchanged a look. But Spencer was one of their own.

Rick and Michonne were both on their feet, already on the move. Nayna turned and walked out the door.

 

Twenty minutes later they were approaching the gate. She carried her bow slung over her shoulder along with a sniper rifle and her Sig attached to her hip, as always. The quiver of arrows slapped against her thigh as her boots thudded on the gravel. Rick walked close to her, close enough to touch, close enough that she could mutter out of the corner of her mouth and he would hear her. Nayna's heart sank as she noticed Negan's men had assembled inside. Oh well, she couldn't say she didn't expect it. Rick grunted in disapproval, but she nudged him and he said nothing.

She counted about twenty-five men...that she could see. All carrying assault weapons, all standing at attention. Either military or Negan was creating an army. She and Rick exchanged glances. Not good. They may have outnumbered the men there, but only a few of them were even close to having the same training. They would all be massacred in a matter of minutes.

Nayna scanned the crowd of men, looking for Negan. A man like Negan would stand out in any crowd, much less the crowd of misfits before them. He would be cold, yet charming, calculating, yet honest. Most likely, he would be cruel beyond measure. He would have that it factor that made men, and women follow him into the depths of hell should he ask.

“Temper,” she said softly to Rick. “Temper and don't get cocky.”

“Watch your mouth and your attitude,” Rick retorted.

They exchanged a knowing glance and nodded at each other. She pressed her lips together in a thin line. But he was right.

Together they stepped forward. Rick cleared his throat and asked the men. “Where is Negan?”

“I'm Negan,” a deep, rich voice carried over the heads of the opposing group, and one of the stragglers came forth. Goosebumps prickled on her skin, but it was probably the chill rolling in with the dusk.

Tall, dark, handsome and dangerous. Just as she'd thought, his smile crinkled to the corners of his eyes, a genuine smile, that even reached his hazel eyes. The pure fucking warmth of his smile unnerved her, sending rivets of anxiety pooling into her stomach. Beside her Rick shifted, hiking his rifle up, his elbow bumping into her. Her fingers brushed against the Sig on pure instinct alone. She cursed herself for being stupid enough to not have her weapon at the ready. 

Each step he took towards them was confident, equal in measure, well thought out. She judged him to be in his forties, probably close to Rick's age, with shots of gray in his dark hair. Looking at him, he was exactly her kind of man with a square, defined jaw, high cheekbones, intelligent eyes. But her heart screamed trouble. 

He stopped in front of them, hands on his hips, his chest pushed out, standing with his legs shoulder width apart. Confident. Cocky. 

“And who the fuck are you fucking fucks, that keep killing my fucking men?” His voice sounded pleasant enough as he looked between the two of them.

“Rick.”

She put her hands on her hips, surveying him, trying to appear casual. “Nayna.”

“The fuck kind of name is Nayna?”

Rick cut Nayna off before she could tell him to fuck himself. “Your men attacked us first.”

“Bull fucking shit. You attacked my outpost.”

“Because your men attacked mine multiple times on the road.”

“Rick, I call fucking shenanigans. ”

Rick shrugged. “Call whatever you like, Negan.”

“Here's the thing, Rick. I'm a fuckin reasonable guy. Am I right?” Negan laughed, a deep growling laugh, as he turned back to his men who nodded and murmured in agreement. “Now, I could give you the benefit of the fuckin doubt. Or I could just kill your men and then you'd know shit was serious. But I think you two know how serious this shit is, don't you? Because if you do, I can fucking be reasonable.”

Nayna and Rick glanced at each other and she cleared her throat. “And by reasonable, do you mean beating the shit out of a child?”

Negan advanced on her, until he was towering over her, minty breath wafting over her face. Rick tensed beside her, tightening the grip on his rifle. She nudged him with her knee, ever so slightly and then raised her brows at Negan.

“I don't beat children. Adults, yes. Children, no. I told you, I'm fucking class A reasonable. All I ask is that you fucking give us half your shit.”

“No.”

“I mean, I could just have my men gun you all down and take your shit. But I need men and women working for me. So, maybe I should take one of you outside,” Negan grinned and his eyes roamed over the crowd behind them.

Nayna backed up, holding her arms out. “No. What is it that you fucking want, Negan?”

“Half of everything. And I mean, everything. Guns, food, water, medical supplies, gas, cars. Fucking down to your last Popsicle stick. Got it?”

Rick said nothing, Nayna said nothing. Behind them Michonne and Daryl were silent as well.

“In the end, it all fucking belongs to us anyway, but I'm a nice guy, so I'll let you borrow half. But fucking try to hide anything and there will be severe consequences. Understand?”

“And if I say no?” Rick snarled. Nayna reached forward and wrapped her fingers around Rick's wrist. He stiffened but didn't yank out of her grip as she'd expected.

“Then I've got a present for you fucks,” Negan laughed and motioned for one of the Saviors. The man who stepped forward was greasy from head to toe, no more than thirty with a hooked nose and a snarled face, carrying a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. Nayna wanted to recoil, but men like Negan preyed on the weak. Instead she tightened her grip on Rick's wrist, a warning.

“Hows about I show you the new world order?” Negan chuckled as he took the bat from the hooked nose man. “Now, like I said before, I'm a nice guy. I'm willing to give you another chance,” he said giving the bat a few swings. Nayna grimaced as the bat swung close to their faces, but she tried her best not to duck or dodge. “I understand this is fucking hard for you to swallow, but hey, this is how it fucking is now. So, I ask again. Do you fucking understand me?”

“Yeah, we fucking do,” Nayna burst in before Rick could fuck up more. His temper would get the best of them. As much as she loved Rick and respected him, sometimes he couldn't see the forest for the trees.

She looked at Rick, who squared his jaw. She gave his wrist a gentle squeeze in solidarity. He bumped her leg with his hand. He nodded at her slowly, closing his eyes. They would do it. Surviving was fighting, as hard as that was for them to swallow. Live to fight another day.

“Is that all?” Nayna asked coldly, turning back to look into Negan's surprisingly handsome face. The motherfucker had dimples. 

Negan turned his sights on her, his eyes running up and down her body in a vulgar display of appraisal. “This your woman, Rick?”

“Does it matter?” Rick said, catching Negan's gaze and looking between him and Nayna. She could feel the heated anger emanating from Rick and she squeezed his wrist again.

Negan chuckled. “Oh you're fucking right it does.”

“What else do you want?” Nayna snapped, though she knew exactly where it was headed.

Negan laughed. “Oh I just thought of my second condition. Rick, a word?”

Rick glanced down at Nayna who jerked her head in approval. She dropped his wrist as he stepped forward and Negan wrapped an arm around Rick's shoulders. Every muscle in Rick's back rippled and tightened. Nayna glanced back over her shoulder at Daryl and Michonne who both had equally worried expressions on their faces. They all knew what Rick and Negan were discussing. Her heart dropped to her stomach, but she stood proud and tall, the edge of her bow jammed into the dirt as she curled her the fingers of her right hand around it. 

By then the last bits of light had faded into deep blue, with the stars sleepily poking out from behind the clouds that obscured the moon.

The rest of the Saviors shuffled their feet, though still holding their guns pointing steady at the rest of the group. Nayna could barely see their faces in the dark.

A few more minutes of terse conversation between Rick and Negan occurred, while Nayna stood, grasping her bow until her knuckles were white, trying not to show the rising anxiety that threatened to bubble over. She'd stood up to the Governor himself, stood toe to toe with Gareth, killed so many Walkers and never batted an eye. But this was a whole new playing field and she wasn't used to it. She swallowed hard against her hammering heart.

Rick came striding back to her with purpose, his boots slamming on the wet concrete road. His jaw was locked and his blue eyes were hard as he hopped the curb and grabbed Nayna by the elbow and roughly yanked her aside. Her feet slipped on the pavement and she scrambled to catch herself, but Rick kept dragging her along. She looked over her shoulder to see Negan holding his hand up to the Saviors, an eerie grin on his face.

Rick stopped under the last working street light and looked down at her, jamming his hands into his pockets. “I don't know how to say this.”

“English is best.”

“Nayna,” he sighed, staring over her shoulder, probably looking at Michonne.

“Rick, just spit it out. I'm sure it's not a delicate matter.”

“He wants free access to you.”

Nayna furrowed her brow, squinting against the brightness of the street lamp above. “What does that even mean?”

But they both knew what Negan wanted.

“I don't know.”

“What did you tell him?”

Rick shrugged. “Told him it was your decision, your choice.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “And what'd he say?” 

“Didn't exactly say anything but....”

“But I really don't have a choice, do I Rick?”

“There is always a choice, Nayna.”

She shook her head. “You would serve me on a meat platter to Negan if it meant keeping Carl and Judith safe. If it meant keeping them out of our hair, or from killing us or taking all our shit. Just be a fucking man and admit it. You would even ask him how he'd like me, admit that too.”

Rick said nothing and Nayna laughed bitterly. “Let me guess, Rick. You already said yes, but you come here presenting it as my choice, so you don't look like the bad guy.”

“Nayna...That's not what I meant...”

“Unfuckingbelieveable. You know, Rick, it's one thing to come back here and give me a fucking choice, even though you know what I'd say and it's another to take the fucking choice away from me.”

“What's the damned difference, Nayna? I know you well enough to know you would have said yes and if it keeps us safe...You're goddamn right I would serve you on that platter, well done if he asked me. My only stipulation to him was that he won't hurt you.”

“You know Rick....You're becoming more and more like Shane everyday.”

“Fuck you.”

She laughed bitterly in Ricks face. “No, no. Fuck me? I've already been fucked, thank you, it's your turn for once, asshole.”

“So you're saying you won't do it? Just to spite me? You'll set this whole community aflame because you think I'm an asshole?”

“Oh, I'll do whatever I can to protect everyone. Including you,” she snarled, jabbing a finger against his chest. “I don't know why I'm including you, but I am. Now, tell me again and don't fucking lie to me...What exactly does free access mean? Sex? Me going to live there?”

“I already told you, I don't know.”

She scowled. “Yeah that's rich.”

She inhaled deeply and whirled around, walking back to Negan and his men, cursing Rick and fighting tears.

“Where are you going?”

“To give him free fucking access, Rick,” she called over her shoulder, throwing up her hands.

 

She stomped over to Negan and jammed her hands on her hips. “And what are you going to do for us in return?”

Negan laughed. “I'll let you all live.”

Nayna stared at him nonplussed, which only made his grin widen. 

“Okay, okay, if you ask nicely, I suppose if you ever had say, a walker problem, we may be inclined to help you. For a fee. Which would be determined after, of course.”

Rick came up beside her and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

“To all of it?” Negan asked, flicking his eyes over Nayna. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yeah to all of it.”

“Then you've got yourself a fuckin deal man,” Negan laughed and pumped Rick's hand up and down, his own eyes never leaving Nayna's face. She briefly wondered if her face was as white and drained as she felt. “You've got seven days to deliver half your supplies to my compound. Or else I come back and take everything.”

Negan leaned in and brushed a stray hair from Nayna's cheek. His breath tickled her ear. “And I'll see you later, doll.”

It took everything she had to not move away, to show no emotion, especially when he traced his thumb over the arc of her ear, all the way down to the lobe. Nayna wasn't sure if it was repulsion or an involuntary reflex that caused her shudder. But Negan chuckled and tugged her braid before turning back to his men.

 

Michonne and Daryl were quiet as the four of them walked back to the rest of the group. People were avoiding her eyes, everyone, down to little baby Judith had witnessed Negan's affections. Everyone knew. No one spoke up. Nayna hadn't felt so alone since the beginning of the end.

So she hiked her bow higher on her shoulder and headed back to the house with the chrome and the stainless steel. The house she and her husband had never been able to afford on his meager military salary and her student loans. The crowd parted silently for her and she felt a few dozen pairs of eyes on her back as she slipped into the empty, foreboding home. 

A single tear slid down her cheek, but she brushed it away without a second thought as she jogged up the stairs and into her bedroom. She dropped onto her elbows and knees, rifling through the things under the bed until she came to THE BOX. 

THE BOX was a sordid, sad collection of things she'd collected that reminded her of everyone she'd lost since the beginning. Things she'd carried with her at all times until they'd gotten to Alexandria. Where she finally felt comfortable enough to put them away, to cherish at her leisure. She rifled past the things in the box, unable to concentrate on them, for fear of breaking down, until she came to Shane's police hat. He'd gifted it to her shortly before he lost his damned mind.

She clutched the hat to her chest. It was true, what she'd said earlier. Rick was becoming more and more like Shane everyday and in some aspects he was worse. The same Rick who thought shooting Otis was abhorrent would now not only condone it, but he probably would've shot Otis himself.

Times like these made her miss the hell out of pre-crazed Shane. She and Rick were close, as close as they could be, but Shane and Nayna had an understanding of how the world truly was. Rick was still trying to be the good guy, the savior of the land, while Shane had accepted his role as leader and doled out without guilt or remorse. Rick was always both sides of the coin and he either acted too rash, or he took forever to decide. There was no happy medium with Rick. 

Nayna was as pragmatic as they came. She saw. She knew. She still had feelings, but she'd always been able to distance herself from those feelings, to allow her to see the whole picture. 

The door opened downstairs and Nayna kicked her own door shut. She couldn't bear to see anyone now.

She untied the laces to her steel toed boots and kicked them across the room, wincing as they landed with loud thuds against the wall, leaving black skid marks. She sighed and stood, sliding THE BOX underneath the bed. Better to hide it.

She flapped the hat out and stuffed it on her head. As much as she didn't want to see anyone, she knew Rick would come. He would feel guilt and try to assure himself he was still a good person by coming to talk to her. Nayna didn't know if she had it in her to give him that comfort. Petty, but still. Not only had he thrown her under the bus, but he'd backed over her a couple times just to be safe.

She flopped backward on the bed, crossing her arms and feet, laying in wait for Rick. Luckily she didn't have to wait long at all.

“Nayna?” His voice sounded from the other side of the door.

“Nope.”

Rick sighed and opened the door anyway, just like she knew he would. Goddamn he was fucking predictable as fuck. 

He crossed the room and laid on the bed beside her, so she turned on her side, back facing him, and stared at the wall. They lay side by side not talking for a long time. Nayna had to curl her fingernails into her shoulder to keep from crying. She was angry at Rick, and she knew it was misplaced, but it was easier to be angry at someone, something tangible than to be angry at circumstance. 

And then Rick placed his hand on her shoulder, grasping firmly but gently and the tears poured from her face. He did his best to wipe them away and hold her, but she cried for everyone she lost, her mother, her husband, her friends, and everyone since the beginning. Rick stroked her hair and he did the only thing that would help her. He said nothing.


	3. Dear Diary

_Entry number 2_

 

**Rick can't even look at me. Not after my semi-break down. No one can look me in the eye. The only one who doesn't treat me any different is Judith. I've been spending a lot of time with her lately, playing, talking, teasing, snuggling. At least I know someone loves me.**

**Did I mention how much I hate journaling? It's making my fucking hand hurt. Times like this make me wish I had my computer.**

**Ugh, I can't stand the looks everyone has been giving me. The pity, the I'm so sorry. I can't handle Daryl's anger or Carol's tight lipped look. And I especially cannot stand Rick and his sad fucking puppy dog eyes. It's funny though, everyone is pissed at Rick. Everyone blames him. I almost feel bad for him. He wants to feel better about himself, about these choices, which is why he's been following me around, trying to engage me. And you know what? Fuck that. Let him feel this as deeply as he feels everything else. Let him handle his own emotional well being for once. Better yet, let Michonne handle it. I can't. I have to take care of me. I have to keep myself occupied with something other than Rick.**

**Olivia and I have been busy taking inventory of the supplies. What they don't know, is that I've taken the majority of the most important medicine and I've well...I half dug up Denise's grave and I stuffed the plastic bag with all the meds into her grave and repacked the dirt. Sort of a safety net, I suppose. I'll tell Rick and Daryl before I go. And Michonne as well, now that I think of it. We don't have much to give. There are too many of us to be able to give as much as Negan is demanding. It'll be a precarious balance.**

**Rick is determined to give them less than half. I just warn him that it needs to be enough so they don't come barging in and take whatever the fuck they want. But he's not listening to me. Which is pissing me off more at this point.**

**Two days since Rick sold me out and I am still so fucking pissed at him. And the worst part? My anger is misplaced and I am fully aware of it. Rick was right, he does know me well enough to know I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But its easier to lash out at him, tell him hes the asshole, not me. Not fucking Negan whom I now am required to get along with and more.**

**Its the more part that has my insides tied in fucking knots. I've only ever had sex with my husband, William. And the thought of Negan touching me not only repulses me, but it fucking turns me on. How can it do both? How can I feel so dirty and so.....lustful....at the same time. It's gross. I'm angry. It's normal, but gross. Four years and no fucking sex. Fucking deployments, man. And the end of the fucking world. But fuck me right? And I am equally pissed that its getting me all hot and bothered. Negan is a fucking fine ass man with a sexy voice. If he wasn’t essentially extorting us he could lay in my bed whispering feces over and over again and I would be a very happy woman. Equal parts gravelly and deep and rustic. And I am a sucker for an older man...and now my nether regions are responding. Thanks. Yep. But I guess it will make the act easier if I just let go. Fuck maybe I will even get an orgasm or two. Lets be pragmatic here. It won't do to resist or deny anything. In the end, its gonna make it worse for me.**

**I know this, I have seen this shit firsthand and its fucking called Stockholm syndrome. Its why I am writing this stupid journal in the first place. There will come a time when the excuses come and I don’t know it. Even though I am pissed at Rick, I have told him, Daryl, and Michonne they have free access to my journals when they think its necessary. Not that I want them seeing this shit but hey, I'm an emotionally logical girl. Fuckin A man. Right now I'm just a girl with a chip on her shoulder. Woman...**

**I'm all messed up in the head right now. I'm fucking shaking and there are a thousand things racing through my mind right now. It's like being back in the Old World, with my anxiety. The anxiety that I'd had under perfect control. Too busy running the streets of DC to be anxious and then too busy running from Walkers and surviving to be anxious. Since we've settled into Alexandria my anxiety levels have slowly risen until it's a constant buzz. Fucking hell. I just have to remember to ground myself. Which I find myself doing way too much of now. It's fucking exhausting.**

**Anyway, back to the reasons Rick is a bigger asshole than Negan. First for pandering down. Yes, we are vastly out numbered, but we are more useful to him alive. This way he and his men don’t have to waste their time scavenging and we (and Hilltop) essentially supply his every want and desire. And even if he did kill me, that’s one less warrior off his list, less of a threat to him. I’ve killed at least five of his men with my arrows alone. Its one thing to agree to half the supplies. Its a fucking nother to agree on my body. And fuck it. This argument is going nowhere and I have broken this fucking pencil twice now, I am so pissed.**

**Four more days and I will be on my way to the drop off point to deliver the supplies. Negan hadn’t said he wanted me to deliver them, just that he wanted free access. Well since I don’t want Mohammed going to the mountain, I am taking the mountain to him. I will do this but on my terms. _Mine._**

 


	4. The Things We Bury

RICK

Nayna was leaving tomorrow and they still hadn't spoken since the night of the incident. Every time Rick walked into a room, she would turn and leave, pretending to be busy. Michonne told him to give Nayna time, but time was running out. Soon there would be no time left.

Rick picked at his breakfast, chewing on his cheek. Michonne reached over and stroked a hand down his face. He turned his head and kissed her hand, making her smile.

“I know you're worried, Rick,” Michonne said, leaning back in her chair to look at him. “But Nayna is very strong and she can take care of herself. I have no doubts that she'll be able to handle Negan. And I don't think he'll hurt her. I think he's using her as a form of insurance. We don't attack him, otherwise Nayna gets hurt and he's almost guaranteed to get his supply drops.”

Rick grunted. Michonne had a point. 

“Doesn't make me like any of it any better.”

“I know. I don't like it either, but it is what it is. Trust Nayna,” Michonne slid her hand into his. He smile at her and leaned in for a kiss.

“I'm glad I have you,” he murmured against her lips and she smiled wider.

“I think she went to the infirmary with Olivia this morning. If you hurry, you can catch her,” Michonne said, nodding.

“I think I will,” he sighed and stood.

“I know it's not a conversation you want to have, but it's one you should have Rick.”

He stood behind her and kissed his way around her neck to her collarbone. “Maybe we can have a conversation later tonight?”

Michonne laughed and shoved him away. “Go! And I'll see you later.”

Rick grinned and caught the apple she tossed at him. He sauntered out of the house, into the bright morning sun. He squinted against the light and glanced down the street. Things had almost gone back to normal since Negan had barged in a week ago. 

The one thing Nayna had insisted on, and Rick fulled agreed with, was to double the patrols. The last thing they needed was another surprise attack. She had every patrol carrying a whistle. Two short blasts meant Negan, three quick blasts meant walkers and one long drawn out whistle meant danger of another sort.

Next week they would go on a supply run, looking for walkies and batteries along with food an medicine. Nayna wanted every patrol to carry one and for her, Rick, Michonne and Daryl to take turns carrying another, so one of them would always be “on-duty.”

The plan was for Rick to go with Heath, Tara (both who would be back by then), Abraham, Aaron, Eric and Nayna....If Nayna came back. 

That thought made his stomach roll and he stopped to take a breath. Michonne was probably right, but he worried nonetheless.

He waved at Rosita and Sasha and made his way to the infirmary. Just as Michonne said, Nayna was there, helping and instructing Olivia. He stood in the doorframe, watching, smiling to himself. When she had a fire under her ass, she was demanding and snappy. Her irritated demeanor was a barrier against the anxiety and worry that simmered underneath. 

Rick watched as Nayna slipped something in her pocket as Olivia turned to inventory the shelf behind her. He saw her side-eye Olivia again and then proceed to stuff more more bottles into her pockets.

Olivia turned back, frowning. “I swear, I thought we had more medicine than this. Didn't Denise do a run with Daryl and Rosita before she died?”

Nayna shrugged. “I don't know, but we're going to do a supply run sometime next week. Hopefully we'll find more drugs then. For now, just write down what we have. Remember, we want to keep as many records as possible, so I'd like you to copy these and put a copy in the pantry, the infirmary, the armory. Keep an updated copy in your house and then make sure Rick and I both have one.”

“That's a lot of copies, Nayna....”

“CYA, Olivia. CYA. This way if Negan and his men DO show up, we can be on our feet faster and ready to go.”

Olivia shook her head, looking down at the clipboard. “Yes, ma'am.”

Nayna snorted. “You don't have to ma'am me. I'm just making sure we're prepared, that's all. Poor planning is a poor excuse for tragedy. That's what my boss used to say anyway.”

Nayna brushed imaginary dirt from her leggings and looked up to see Rick watching her. She gave him a tight lipped smile and brushed past him with little more than a nod. 

She was wearing the hat just to spite him. Rick noticed whenever she was pissed with him she pulled out Shane's hat and wore it until her anger subsided. Normally it bothered him to the point he would actively avoid her. Now, it just made his heart hurt for her.

In all the time he had known Nayna, he had never seen her cry. Ever. She wasn't one who openly showed vulnerability, so for her to cry...

He waved to Olivia. She waved back and went back to her inventory. He waited another beat and followed Nayna out of the infirmary. Rick briefly debated whether he should confront her about stealing the supplies or wait and see. But it was Nayna. There was more going on there. And if he confronted her, she'd be less pissed at him. She was already angry enough. 

In all the years they'd known each other, she'd never held her anger at anyone for more than a day. For her to not speak with him for nearly a week was unheard of.

Rick advanced on her and grabbed her by the elbow, dragging her between two houses. 

“What are you doing?” He hissed, glancing around, making sure they were alone.

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” She snapped. “I'm trying to get shit in order here. What are you doing, Rick?”

He reached into her pockets and shook the pill bottles within. “I'm trying to figure out what the fuck is going on with you.”

She sighed and grasped his wrists. He let go of the bottles as she withdrew his hands. 

“Do you trust me?” Her voice was softer than it had been in over a week.

“Of course I trust you, Nayna. Do you trust me?”

Her dark eyes flicked to his face and she clenched her soft jaw and pressed her small mouth into a thin line. Finally she spoke. “Yes, I trust you, Rick.”

“Then do you mind telling me what the holy fuck you're doing?”

Her eyes glittered as a malevolent smile spread across her lips. “I have a plan. Meet me at the graveyard tonight, dusk, right at shift change. Bring a shovel.”

“A shovel?”

“Trust me, Rick,” she whispered, disengaging from him and straightening Shane's police cap on her head. Rick watched her disappear down the alleyway, behind the brownstones.

Of course he trusted Nayna. He probably trusted her more than he even trusted himself. 

 

Rick leaned against the wall. It was a little after dusk and the patrols were nowhere to be seen. And neither was Nayna.

He spun the shovel, idly in his hand, staring at the graves. Jessie, Sam, Ron, Denise.....Countless other Alexandrians. 

Thinking about Denise reminded him that Tara and Heath were still out on their run. Tara still didn't know about Denise's death. Rick wasn't looking forward to telling her, either. One of the worst parts of being a cop was notifying relatives of a death. He hated it. Every cop hated it, but Rick despised it. And it never got any easier. Especially in the world they lived in now. It still sucked.

He glanced up as Nayna came sliding into the graveyard. 

“Sorry I'm late,” she whispered. “Carl asked me if he could start patrolling and I had to try to talk him out of it.”

Rick smiled despite himself. “Yeah, he wants to help out.”

“I know. Told him there were other ways he could help and we'd figure out a job for him.”

Rick pushed himself off the wall, grasping the shovel. “So what's this all about.”

Nayna glanced over her shoulders. “We can't afford for Negan to take our medicine. We don't have a doctor anymore, and medicine has just become our biggest commodity. Especially the antibiotics. Just think, what if Carl's eye gets infected? If we don't have enough....” She drew in a deep, yet shaky breath. “I've been pilfering medicine from the infirmary since Negan came and I've been....I've been sticking it in Denise's grave.”

Rick blinked several times and bent forward. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“That's....Jesus, Nayna.”

Three years later and she still could fucking shock the hell out of him. Why hadn't he thought of that? 

“I've put them in several plastic bags to keep everything out, but I haven't dug....I haven't dug her all the way out. Just enough to hide. And I had planned to tell you before I left tomorrow....In case....In case I don't come back.”

Rick looked up at her, but she wasn't looking at him, but wistfully off into the horizon. He noticed she wasn't wearing the hat anymore. He reached out and put his hand on her arm. She looked down at him, her eyes full of regret and sadness.

She took another deep breath. “I forgive you.”

“Nayna....” Rick pulled her into his arms and held her to his chest. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm just so scared,” she whispered, her fingers curling into his shirt. 

“Me too,” he murmured into her coconut smelling hair.

“It hit me last night, Rick. I'm not ready to die. I still have so much living I want to do. So many things that will never get done, even if I live another forty years,” she said. Rick felt his shirt growing damp. She was crying again. He only tightened his arms around her.

“I'm not ready for you to die either, Nayna. You still won't tell me your real name,” he teased. She responded with a muffled snort. He sighed. “I'm scared because I can't be there to protect you.”

She looked up at him, her rounded pink cheeks, shiny with tears. “Since when have I ever needed anyone to protect me?”

Rick didn't know what to say to that. She'd never really needed him to protect her, she was quite capable of handling herself, even as small as she was. Just looking at her, it was easy to forget how strong she was.

“I want to protect you. You're my family. You've always been there for me. And here you are willing to sacrifice yourself to the devil himself to keep us all safe. And it's killing me, Nayna.”

“I know, Rick. Don't you think I know you better than anyone? No one else wants to make these calls. They all look to you to do the dirty work. Even I do sometimes,” she leaned back and swiped at her watery eyes. “You're really the one without a choice. I know that. I know that I've been a bitch this last week. I....was stupid to be so angry at you. You're my best friend and...I missed you.”

Rick pressed his forehead against hers. “I missed you too. I especially missed shit like this. You know, meeting at night in the graveyard so we can bury things over people we loved.”

She laughed. “Rick, that's awful.”

He grinned. “You were thinking it.”

“Guilty.”

Rick leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Alright, lets go bury some medicine.”

They dug in relative silence, giving Rick plenty of time to think.

He was an asshole. Nayna was right to be angry at him. But he knew Negan wasn’t fucking around. She had known Negan wasn’t fucking around. It was the choice between skipping or walking to hell. Walking delayed the inevitable, however, it gave them the chance they needed. Nayna was smart, and she knew that as well.

She would leave at dawn, in just a few hours to the drop off point. And then...?

He fucking hated himself. He had failed her. Nayna had always been there for him, always backed him up, even when she outright disagreed with his decisions. Even when she confronted him, he felt like she was always on his side. She had been the one to convince him not to turn Michonne over to the governor. She had been the one who offered to go back to Terminus when everyone wanted to leave. She, along with Tyreese had talked him out of killing the Grady cops. 

Even when she openly disagreed, she accepted his choices, such as when he banished Carol. When they had discussed it later, Nayna admitted that she knew it had been Carol all along, but she couldn’t condemn her for the decision shed made. Nayna reminded him of Shane and Otis. How if Shane hadn’t shot Otis there would have been three deaths instead of one. How it fucked Shane up in the long run. How it killed something within Carol, but she had been trying for the good of the group. Sometimes, the good of the many had to outweigh the good of the one or the few, she had reasoned. Carol's punishment was that she had to live with the knowledge that she had killed two innocent people, she had to live with herself, and that was punishment enough, Nayna had said. Rick knew she was right. Everyone could see the hell Carol put herself through.

Rick looked up at her, studying her heart-shaped face with its weak pointed-chin, slighty slanted jaw, rounded cheeks and her normally kind eyes. She wasn't beautiful by normal standards. Pretty, in a girl next door kind of way. Some of her features contrasted a little too much. Her delicate nose and mouth were offset by her thick brows. Her true beauty lay with her smile and her heart.

“What?” She glanced at him, raising one of her thick brows.

“Nothin,” he said shaking his head.

She squinted at him and tossed another clod of dirt to the side. A piece went flying and his him in the ear. 

Nayna snorted. “Sorry....not sorry.”

Rick grinned. “I'll make you sorry.”

“Oh yeah?”

Rick flicked another tiny ball of dirt at her. It hit her chest and she laughed. “It's on, asshole.”

It was juvenile at best, horrifying at worst. A dirt fight in the middle of the dead. But Rick would do anything for that bright, dimpled smile on her face. She caught him in the face with a rather large clod and he gasped and spluttered, ducking for cover.

His next throw hit her hair and she grunted, rubbing as much dirt out as she could. She kicked another clump at him, snagging his white shirt and he retaliated in full force.

And so it went, back and forth between them, laughing and snickering and tossing dirt at one another, until they lay side by side, panting on the grass. 

“Look at all the stars,” she breathed. 

There wasn't a star to be found, all seemingly hidden beneath the cover of purple fluffy clouds. He squinted at Nayna who was giggling.

“My father was so drunk once, my mother took him outside to lay on the hill and he kept going on and on and on about the stars. Ma said there wasn't a damned star to be found, and my father was probably more than drunk,” she laughed, rolling on her side to face him. Her cheek was pillowed into her elbow.   
Rick fought off the urge to brush a dusting of dirt from her freckled nose.

Instead he laughed and scooted closer to her, wiggling his arm under her neck. She moved her arm and lay her head on his chest.

“You should sleep,” Rick said, kissing the top of her head. He hoped she wouldn't.

She placed a palm on his chest and pushed herself up so she was looking down on him. There was an urgency on her face that made Rick feel uneasy and a little ill.

“Promise me something, Rick,” she demanded.

“What?” His fingers reached up to grasp the small of her back.

She leaned forward, her braid pooling on his ribs. Her eyes were wild, frantic as she searched his face. “Promise me you won't send anyone after me if I don't come back.”

“What? No, Nayna, I can't--”

“--you must, Rick,” she cut him off. “Please don't send anyone after me. We can't afford to lose anyone else. Please don't put that on me. Please.”

Rick reached up to stroke her cheek. “If you don't come back, I will find Negan and kill him myself, Nayna. I won't send anyone else out, but I won't not look for you. I said it before and I'll say it again. You are my family. You and the kids, and Michonne, Glenn, Maggie, Daryl, Carol, Morgan. You are my family and no one fucks with my family. Ever.”

“Rick, what if...what if you die looking for me? What about Judy?” Her voice quavered.

“Then I hope Judy knows her mother died giving her life and I died giving her a life worth living.”

“Rick....”

“Stop,” Rick reached up and pulled Nayna's head back down on his chest. “I love you and if you don't come back I'm coming to find you. And if you're dead, I'm going to kick your ass.”

She laughed, but said nothing. They lay together, in the quiet for a long time before either spoke.

“We should finish and go back in. Michonne will be worried if you don't come to bed,” Nayna sighed and sat up, brushing dirt from her black leggings. 

Rick felt mildly disappointed, but she was right. He stood and helped her up. They finished burying the medicine and Nayna put her hands on her hips, frowning.

“We can't keep redigging this. We have to find a way to hide it. Like with astro-turf or something. Make it like a loose floorboard. That way if Negan and his goons do come in here, it doesn't look like we're digging up our people over and over again.”

“Yeah, you're right,” Rick said, sniffing and rubbing his nose with his arm. “We'll think of something. For now, it's fine.”

Nayna leaned her shovel against the corner of the wall and turned to head home. Rick followed her and wrapped an arm about her shoulder. She was leaving in the morning, but he didn't want to let her go.


	5. Dear Diary

Entry number 3

 

**I lied to Rick for the first time in my life. I don't forgive him. I can't stay mad at him, but I can't forgive him either. I am a hypocrite. I didn't lie when I told him that he was my best friend. And if I didn't at least try to make amends with him before I left, I'd regret it for whatever little time I have or had left.**

**And I know how hard Rick works to keep the group together. He's the one who makes the hard calls, he's the one who has to live with all of that. I didn't “forgive” him for myself. I did it for him because I love him and he is my family and my best friend. This was the longest week of my life.**

**I just feel so alone, you know? Watching Rick and Michonne or Tobin and Carol makes me feel even more alone. I want someone to hold me at night and kiss me and tell me it's all going to be alright. I want someone to protect me, even though I'm strong. Even though I'm strong, I feel weak. So weak inside. I can't say I miss William either. He was a shitty, shitty ass husband. And I was a terrible wife. We were so mismatched for each other.**

**On the outside I may be tough as nails, but on the inside I live the fantasy of being swept off my feet and rescued. I want someone sturdy and dependable who will always be there for me. Rick keeps slyly suggesting Daryl since we go hunting together, but I just don't see Daryl that way and I highly doubt he sees anyone that way. Like me, Daryl is just too closed off.**

**After Rick and I had our little shenanigans in the graveyard...And that sounds like sex. Definitely not sex. Anyway, we came into the house and he went into Michonne and I took the monitor to watch out for baby Judith. I insisted even though Rick pushed for me to sleep. He understood eventually that I just wasn't going to sleep.**

**I can't eat, I can't sleep. My stomach is all in knots. I spent the last hour pacing, pacing, wringing my hands. I don’t wanna do this. I can't do this. Nothing calms me down....except a bath. I am writing in the bath now. We are all trying to conserve water, but I am being supremely selfish here and I am taking a scalding hot bath. Its been three years since I have had a nice relaxing venture in the tub. And dammit I have earned the fuck out of it.**

**When I was younger baths were a cure-all for me. Aching back? Bath! Stomach upset? Bath! Tooth hurting? Bath! Baths made me feel warm and safe and secure. Even now it's calming my racing heart and my rising panic. Or maybe that's the writing that's doing that.**

**I feel like an ass for thinking this, but it's a fucking shame Denise died. I could use to just talk to someone semi-objective. Everyone around here knows me far too well for me to just unload. It'd be...it's be opening up too much and they would all just be driven away eventually. It's how I drove my husband away.**

**The other day I heard Daryl giving Rick a serious ass chewing about letting me walk into this “trap” as he called it. He still has a chip on his shoulder about Denise, not that I blame him. I just wanted to go to him and put my hands on his shoulders and tell him I would be okay. Not that I believe it myself.**

**It's almost time to get up and get ready for real and the water is nearly cold. I don't dare fill it with more hot water. I've already used my fair share. More than that.**

**My heart hurts thinking of all the things I wanted to do that I will either never get to do because the World ended or because my world will soon end. I know it fucking sound droll and dramatic, but I can't help it. There is a sense of dread, draped over my shoulders like a rain cloud specifically assigned to piss on me.**

**I always wanted to see New York City. I always wanted to ride on a train. It sounds stupid as fuck, but I've never ridden on a train before. I'll never go out of the country again. Never go to the west coast. I'll never have a baby. I'll never get to see an airplane flying in the sky again or sit down and just watch a television show. I'll never get up, get in my car and drive to DC to work again. I'll never investigate another crime scene and there are a million cold cases sitting on my desk that will never be looked at again, no justice for them.**

**I think of all the things in my life that I've done and I realize, Carl and Judith and Maggie's baby will never know how good the world really was before. Judith and Maggie's baby will have never lived in a time where the dead did not walk. This was their past, present and future. Soon, Rick and the others will grow old and the memories of the past will fade, possibly never to be recorded or passed down. Who knew if the human race could survive this? Rick was right. It's not the Walkers that are dead. We are the walking dead. We are the ones holding on to a nearly extinct species, an extinct, archaic way of life. We shouldn't be trying to go back to the old days with cable TV and electricity. We should be forging ahead and trying to create something new.**

**But how can we do that with Negan and his men on our backs? Oh dear, God I hope that I can survive this. I have to.**

 


	6. The Things We Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I wrote this chapter in less than a day and then I went back and...I hated it. 4500 words, scrapped. At first it just didn't give me the sense of who Negan was as a character. And he's a character alright. So, I've been revising, pulling my hair out and here is the result.   
> Also want to thank EVERYONE who has commented, bookmarked, left kudos. Those mean so much to writers like us. Feedback is always a great thing and I really appreciate everyone taking time out of their day to do that. And over 500 hits! That's almost 250 in three days! I guess the finale really helped the fic, eh?

NAYNA

Compartmentalize, compartmentalize, compartmentalize....

Nayna drew in a shaky breath and grabbed the bottle of water from the cars cup holder. The bottle was slick with sweat, just like her. But it was a sweet cool relief running down her throat. Nayna was tempted to pour it over her flaming face. Instead she capped it and put it back. 

For the last half an hour she'd passed nothing but forest and empty road, which struck her as odd. Nary a Walker to be seen. The Saviors must have been using the road as their main line, which meant their base wasn't very far at all. 

She tapped her fingers against the wheel in no specific rhythm, dancing against the nervous buzz in her bloodstream. Nayna had been doing nothing more than driving for the past hour and a half, however, she panted like she'd just run a marathon. With every breath she gulped she felt like she was breathing through a mouthful of Vaseline. 

A quick check of the map told her she wasn't too far from her destination. Supposedly a parking lot of an abandoned convenience store in the middle of Bumfuck, Maryland. Sasha and Abraham had so generously scouted it out for her three days ago and found nothing out of the ordinary, aside from a suspicious lack of Walkers. Which meant the Saviors had systematically cleared the area ahead of them.

She winded the window down, just a crack to alleviate some of the heat in the car. It was barely 8 in the morning, according to Rick's watch on her wrist, and it already felt like Satan's butthole.

Using her forearm to wipe the sweat off her forehead, she reached out and pulled down the visor to block out the sun. Her sunglasses lay neglected on the empty seat beside her. She'd abandoned them an hour ago, as they proved to be more of a distraction than anything else since she had to keep pushing them back up her nose.

They'd already arrived by the time she'd pulled in. Rick had warned her to go early, but Nayna had taken her time. She was weary, road-worn and her give a damn was close to busted as the anxiety pulsated through her body. 

As she pulled in three men jumped out of the truck. One of them was Negan himself. Well, that was unexpected. She opened the door and pushed herself out of the car.

“Doll,” Negan said, smiling with far too many teeth, far too wide, making her feel unnerved. “I would say, what a fucking surprise, but I had a fucking feeling about you. And I was fucking right. Wasn't I, boys?”

The three other men all nodded, none looking at her. Cowards.

Negan chuckled. “Fuck off, all of you. Go fucking unload the lady's car and be fucking useful for once, assholes.”

They scurried off and Negan turned back to her, the grin reappearing on his face along with a little twinkle in his hazelish eyes.

Nayna studied his face he was even more handsome in the day with his strong chiseled jaw, his thick brows and the pleasant look upon his face as his hazel eyes searched her face, causing her stomach to bubble and churn some more.

“Now, I bet your knees are fucking knocking together. I promise you one thing. If you and Rick fucking cooperate with me, there will be no fucking trouble and I won't hurt you. I don't fucking like hurting and killing, but if I fucking have to I fucking will. But you're smart, I can see it in your fucking eyes. 

“You a cop? You got that cop face, doll. Doesn't fucking matter to me, especially since that cop face is pretty fucking sexy if you ask me.”

“I didn't.” She was relieved to hear her voice come out strong and proud.

He cupped his hand around his ear. “What the fuck was that?”

She cleared her throat. “I said, I didn't ask you.” 

He laughed at her and pointed Lucille in her face. “I like you. See, most fucking women piss their fucking pants around me. Salty, sarcastic and fucking intelligent, that's my fucking ideal woman. I like my women soft on the inside, but rough around the fucking edges. And doll, you put up a good face, but on the inside, you're just warm fucking chocolate.”

What took Rick half a year to realize, Negan had broken down in the span of five minutes. Now Nayna was truly unnerved and her cheeks flamed in traitorous response. 

“But don't you fucking worry,” he said, putting one gloved finger under her chin and tilting her red face upwards. “I won't tell anyone, if you fucking won't.”

She clamped her jaw shut, clenching tightly. He chucked her under the chin and then put his broad hand on the small of her back.

“Now, I'd like to fucking get to know you better, so why don't you climb your ass up into my truck and we'll have a chat.”

She obliged him, closing her eyes as she turned her back to him. What the fuck was going on? Her brain was a jumbled mess that she scrambled to make sense of, but he'd thrown the pieces of her plan so far away, she didn't think she'd get them back. She could barely concentrate over the blood pumping in her temples. Losing her temper with Negan would only prove to be a huge mistake.

She shivered as the cold air wicked over her sweat slicked skin. Negan climbed in next to her, splaying his legs comfortably with one resting against hers, making her heart dance. And then she felt annoyed at herself along with Rick and Negan. She crossed her arms over her breasts and glared up at Negan, unimpressed.

“Look, doll,” he said, his voice not unkind. He placed his hand on her knee. “I won't force you to do anything you don't fucking want to. I,” he said placing his other hand on his broad chest. “do have standards and rape is not one of them. Violence against women, not one of them and I hold my fucking men to the same fucking standards. Just don't fucking do anything stupid and we'll get on like a fuckin house on fire.”

“I don't think that means what you think it means,” she said dryly and he laughed.

“Doesn't fuckin matter as long as you understand what I fucking mean. Do you?”

“Yes, Negan, I do,” she said, shifting away from his knee as slow as possible. He removed his hand.

“Let's start off with a little icebreaker, then, shall we? What's your real name?”

“What's yours?” She snapped.

He raised his brows at her, but kept his friendly smile. “Joe.”

Well fuck. It'd been a huge joke between her and Rick over the years. Only Glenn knew her real name now. Shane did too, once upon a time. In truth, it was Shane who told her if she wanted to shed her old life, that was the time and she'd been known as Nayna ever since.

She sighed. “It's Meghan.”

His arm slid across the backseat behind her, fingers skimming her shoulder. “Can I call ya Meg?”

“Not if you want me to answer,” she said with a glare.

Negan snorted. “Touchy, touchy. Meghan...I like it. Works well with your face.”

She kept giving him the same insolent look, but he seemed not in the least perturbed.

“Okay, since we're fucking playing twenty questions here.....what are the five things you miss most?”

She squirmed, he was getting too personal with her, but she felt like she had no choice but answer him. God fucking damn Rick. She looked down at her hands and sighed.

His gaze bored into the side of her head.

“Animals, diet coke, long quiet drives, music and cheese.”

Negan laughed. “Cheese? Fuck me, not one thing you named was people.”

“Oh there's an abundance of people, that's for sure,” she said dully, watching the man-vultures pick her car clean. Each time they removed something her heart burned angrily in her chest.

“It's just the way the world goes now, doll,” Negan said as if he was reading her mind. She turned to squint back up at him. 

“Ain't that a fuckin shame?” 

Negan didn't answer her, only stared out into the blacktop beside her.

"You’re not used to this are you?" Negan asked, his hazel eyes dancing. 

"Used to what?" 

"You’re used to calling the shots, being in charge. Even with Rick, the supposed fucking leader of the group. And now, I’m getting under your skin, calling you out and its bothering you. You’re all flustered and quiet now. And that ain’t how you try to act is it? I see it. Its all a fucking show, doll. You’re fucking good at reading people, gauging how to react to them, how to get them to act while fucking keeping them at arms length. And here I fucking come and break into your fucking barrier in less than two fucking minutes. And now you’re that fucking deer in headlights." 

She felt the color drain from her face and the panic bubbling just below the surface of her damp skin. Nayna leaned back instinctively, but Negan leaned forward. "I make you uncomfortable, doll? Good, get used to it. Keep you sharp, on your toes....I’m not Rick. I’m not gonna fucking coddle you. You’re a big girl so put on your fucking big girl panties and deal with the new fucking world order. Once you do, your life will be a whole lot better. And, doll, I mean a whole lot fucking better. Your life." 

Negan leaned back, the smile appearing once again on his handsome face. He reached down into the cooler below him. “Soda?”

She took the can of Diet Coke he offered her and popped the tab. She needed something to take the edge off her dizziness. As she looked down at the fizzy mess in her lap she willed herself to breathe. She could handle this. She would handle this. Fucking fuck to Rick. 

She wondered....maybe if she opened up to Negan a little, maybe she could crack through his smile, get to the bottom of him, see if all the smiles were an act. Nayna cleared her throat. “I guess you're right. Never really thought of it that way before.”

He smirked at her. “Don't cop me. I know exactly what you're trying to fucking do, doll. This ain't a hostage situation, I cannot fucking be handled. Stop fucking playing games with me.”

It was all too much. The seething resentment for Rick, Negan pulling her card and her own temper. The mixture simply exploded. She slammed the coke into the cup holder and turned back to him. “What the fuck do you want with me then? Are you doing this to fuck with me? Fuck with Rick? Just tell me!”

Without realizing it, she'd risen up on one knee on the seat and was looking down at Negan.

His smile faded and the look in his eyes was harsh and cold. “Shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down. Now.”

She held his stare for a beat before obeying him, albeit slowly. Negan's glare never left her face.

“I don't have to fucking answer shit from you, doll. Don't you fucking get it? Or are you as stupid as Rick is? I thought I saw intelligence in your face the first time we met, but you're acting like a petty fucking fool. I am King Shit of Asshole Mountain here and you,” he poked her hard in the chest. “You and Rick are my fucking worker bees. I don't fucking care if you like it, I don't fucking care if you curse me in your fucking prayers at night. I fucking care about results and if this is the way I fucking have to do it, doll, that's how I'm going to do it. Don't like it? Go fuck yourself sideways.”

By the end of his speech he was hovering over her, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at him. He was too close for her liking, if she turned her face just so, her cheek would brush against the bristly hairs of his beard.

“Am I fucking understood, or do I have to fucking mime it out to you?”

“Eat shit, Negan.”

The grin returned to his face, and he laughed, his minty breath puffing over her skin. She shivered and turned her face away. He reached up and grasped her cheeks between his gloved thumb and fingers, squishing her face, not unkindly. 

“I've been known to partake a time or two, here and there. As I said before, I like you. I like your fire. You're someone I can work with unlike that dumb fuck Rick. And I know there's something between you and Rick, so you're my extra fucking insurance.”

“No,” she whispered.

“No? I'm sorry, did I fucking stutter? Do you only understand half of English? Are you partially fucking deaf?”

She cleared her throat and mumbled between Negan's fingers. “There's nothing between Rick and myself.”

Negan's brow twitched, but her eyes slid closed. She would not cry in front of this asshole. He'd hit the one bar that she couldn't deflect, that she couldn't be nasty or sarcastic about. 

He let go of her face and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter, but a tear trickled its way from the corner. Negan brushed it away with his thumb. She waited for him to make fun of her, but he said nothing.

“You know,” Negan said softly. “Rick is such a dumb fuck. If I were Rick, I would've died rather than make that kind of deal. Just goes to show you, he's not the man you want him to be, Meghan.”

She shuddered and when she spoke, her voice rasped out at him. “Don't call me that.”

“I think I will. But you call me Joe and we're even.”

She pried her eyes open and looked at his watery image. More tears spilled onto her cheeks, but Negan wasn't looking at her. Instead he was sifting through the glove compartment. He yanked out several tissues and stuffed them in her hand.

“Get it together, now,” he said and then jumped out of the truck, yelling at his men. “What the fuck is taking you stupid fucks so fucking long? Holy fuck balls on a fuck stick, do I need to get Lucille?”

Nayna sat in the cab of the truck, her face burning with shame and tears, and wrapped her arms around her elbows. She hunched over, trying to make herself as small and unnoticeable as she could. Rick would never love her. Not the way she loved him. 

After a few minutes of deep breathing, she wiped her face off, finished the coke and slid out of the truck behind Negan who was yelling at him men still.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you slow ass mother fuckers. I've got places to fucking be, wives to fucking fuck.”

Nayna's brows shot up into her hairline. “Wives?” 

Negan turned and grinned. “Five of em.”

“Gross.”

He only laughed. “Not gross, fucking awesome.”

“All I can think of is the germs the six of you must pass around.”

Negan sidled up next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Want to be my lucky number six?”

“Fuck no. I'm not that desperate.”

“Yet,” Negan chuckled. “Uh-oh, I see the cop face coming back into play.”

“Yeah, so?” She asked shrugging.

He tilted his handsome face to the side. “It was so nice seeing you without that fucking cop face, doll.”

“Didn't realize you liked making little girls cry,” she said softly, shading her eyes with her hand.

“Hey! You're not a little girl. Well, yes you're fucking little, but you're a woman. And I didn't make you fucking cry. Rick did. Don't fucking forget that.”

After that, there was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them as they watched his men stripping her car to nearly bare bones. 

He finally sighed. “Doll, look at me.”

She looked up at him.

“Sorry if I was an asshole before, but sometimes you gotta be a fucking asshole to get your point across. I think you fucking understand that. I just want to reassure you, you have nothing to be afraid of as long as you two cooperate, okay? And I'm not forcing you into anything.”

His meaning was clear and she felt relieved and almost grateful. She nodded at him.

“They almost done?” She asked.

“Looks like it.”

She fiddled with the edge of her vest, looking down. “One thing, please?”

“Hmm?” 

She cleared her throat. “My bow, my arrows, my Sig. I'd like them back please.”

Negan turned to her with a pleasant smile. “Isn't that part of the bargain, doll? Half of everything?”

“Half of everything that belongs to the community. The bow and the Sig are mine. I've had them both since before shit went down. The Sig was my service weapon and the bow was a gift from my husband.”

Negan slid his arm across her shoulders and squeezed. “Alright, I'll let you keep your fucking bow, Katniss.”

“Thank you.”

“Like I fuckin said, I'm a reasonable asshole. An asshole, but reasonable. Now, doll,” He turned to her, one arm still around her, and tilted her chin up with his other gloved hand. Her ran his thumb over her lips. “Same time next week?”

She resisted the urge to bite his thumb. “I'll be there. With bells. Quiet ones.”

He threw back his head and laughed again, keeping a firm grip on her. “Of course. Good, doll, I can't fuckin wait.”

He reached over, casually, and began to stroke the side of her neck. Goosebumps popped over her flesh and her nipples tightened in response. Shit, she shouldn't be getting turned on. But it had been so long since she'd been touched. Not to mention the whole forbidden aspect. Half of her was sickened by him and the other half was quite intrigued, and yep, horny. He had broken through her shell within minutes of meeting her and she hadn't been able to get under his skin once. Now she needed to know more about him. And Rick.....He was right. Rick didn't want her. Fuck Rick. She was lonely.

She did nothing as he buried his fingers in her hair, his thumb moving to rub circles over the base of her skull. He leaned in close enough that she felt his body heat radiating and soaking into her. Or maybe it was just the sun.

Negan turned her head to face his, his eyes searching her face before he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. Nayna reached up and put a steadying hand on his chest, but she didn't push him away. Instead, she allowed him to brush his lips against hers a second time before he pulled back.

“I'll see you next week, doll,” he said in a deep husky tone. She nodded wordlessly. He walked away and jumped into the truck as Nayna stood there hating herself and shivering, despite the noon sun.


	7. Dear Diary

_Entry Number 4_

  
  


**I feel like a horrible person and I'm so heartsick right now.** _I let him get to me!_ **I let him worm his weasley fucking way into my head and in my already vulnerable state, I let him put his nasty mouth on mine. And it wasn't even a terrible kiss. It was good, it set me on fucking fire. And I HATE it. I betrayed Rick and the group. I couldn't even face him. When I got home I ran right up into my room and slammed the door behind me. He sat on the other side of the door for a good hour, trying to coax me out, but I couldn't even look at him. I still can't.**

**Somewhere deep inside of me, I must have known my feelings for Rick. How else would I let him get that close? I'm not a touchy feely person, but it doesn't bother me when Rick does it and besides Carl and Judith, I don't like anyone else touching me. I've pushed my feelings down for as long as I can remember. I've never had that conversation with myself because it just was something that was there.**  
  


**We've been through so much together....And then Negan used it and sucker punched me with it. And now I can't even look at Rick's face. I can't look at him without hurting, without wanting to cry. I'm so angry and hurt. Because I don't think he would have thrown Michonne to Negan. And I wish....I wish I wasn't a horrible person who had horrible thoughts about Rick dying instead of doing that to me. But then again I would never have let Rick do that. And we'd be right back here again....Which we are....And my brain is going in loops thinking about that flurry of fuckery.**  
  


**I'm so fucking lonely. I want companionship and love and desire. I know I've said this a million times, but fuck me. And I'm stupid if I think I'm even going to get half of that from Negan. And I'm stupid for pushing people away. I'm stupid because I let my temper get the best of me and I don't look like a nice person.**  
  


**I hate myself sometimes...**  
  


**One meeting down and I'm already going fucking crazy. I don't know how much of this I can really handle. I keep replaying the kiss over and over and over in my head and on one hand I'm excited because it felt so good to be wanted again and on the other hand I feel like I'm betraying everyone else.**  
  


**And I sound so pathetic. All I've been doing in this diary is whining about Rick and poor pitiful me. And the whining will probably continue....**  
  


**I suppose I'll just bury my feelings again, like I always have. I'll be okay tomorrow. Not because I want to be or because I truly will be. I will be okay tomorrow because I have to be. Rick is strong, but he still leans too much on me. I have to be strong for him and Carl and Judith. And everyone else. I can't fall apart at the seams.**  
  


**I'm trying to remember my training. I'm here shaking on the bed, I'm so upset.....Compartmentalize....What was it my boss always told me? The boxes. Let me see if I can remember the story.....**  
  


**It's really about the difference between men and women, but my boss felt it was integral for everyone to learn and practice it. There should be a box for everything. A box for home. A box for your pet. A box for your spouse. A box for your car. A box for you. A box for work. And when you're focused on one thing you only have one box open at a time. And when you're done with that box you put it back on the box shelf and don't pick it up again until you need it.**  
  


**He then mentioned that women usually had brains like computer networks, running on high speed at all times. Probably true. But I digress.**  
  


**He always took it a step further. In the work box there were files. The case files. The weapons file. The undercover file. Evidence files. When that box was open, it's okay to reference the files and pull them out....And then there was the file that you didn't open until it was absolutely necessary. And in that file were the things...the darkest of humanity: the dead bodies, the horrifying factoids of cases, the smells, the sounds. That file was never to be opened unless it was relevant to the case. That was the file that would make you go crazy and do horrible, horrible things. Things that would haunt you for the rest of your days.**  
  


**It's time to make a box for Rick and it's time to make a box for Negan. When I'm with Rick or in Alexandria, then I can open the Rick box and maybe reference the Negan box. But when I'm with Negan, that's the only box I have open.**  
  


**Tomorrow I'll make amends with Rick, but tonight....I'm going to brood.**

  
  


 


	8. The Things We Plan

RICK

Nayna was sitting on the porch swing, staring at something only she could see. Whenever she was upset, she blanked out, totally absorbed into her own thoughts. Normally, Rick would have gone to her and put his hands on her shoulders and tried to worm it out of her. Now, he felt like he had no right to. No right to her inner thoughts, no right to her feelings.

She was his best friend. His rock. She'd been there when Lori died. When he'd run into that pack of Walkers, she'd been there, calmly behind him, shooting close calls, but letting him thrust his way through. 

It hadn't occurred to him that he'd never been there for her that way before. But she'd come to them with no family. The closest thing she had to family was himself....and Shane. And he couldn't deal with her mourning Shane. She'd done so privately. Even that thought made his heart hurt. 

Rick slipped behind the swing and sat next to her. She was so short her bare feet barely brushed the ground when she sat all the way back. It made him smile. Nayna wore a dark blue T-shirt with the words Read to Party inscribed on the front and a pair of dark jeans. Michonne joked it was her casual wear. She looked so delicate and fragile, but if he had to reckon, she was the strongest one in the group.

“Hey,” he said and reached out to stroke the soft skin on her cheek. Her eyes slid back into focus as she blinked and slowly turned her head to look at him.

“Hi.” Her voice low and gravelly touched him.

“What's wrong?”

She shook her head, the corners of her mouth turned down. “Not a damned thing, Rick.”

“Nayna....”

She sighed and rested her cheek on the back of her hand. Her upper body leaned away from him, but her hip slid over until it was stopped with his own. She was warm on that cool night.

“I just...” she said, closing her eyes. “You've been avoiding me.”

“Well, after last night, I thought you didn't want to see me.”

“I did,” she said, sitting up again. She pulled her feet up on the swing and wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her chin on the center. “I wanted to say that I was sorry.”

“For what?”

“I know you sat outside my room for more than an hour...”

Truth be told, Rick had fallen asleep against her door and hadn't woken until Michonne had shaken him awake. 

“It's fine, Nayna.”

“Look...I just needed to get my head on straight....Negan....he....” she exhaled loudly. “He got under my skin, Rick and I needed a night to screw my head back on right.”

“Okay, I understand.”

She nodded. “I...I need to talk to you about this....I just...I don't want to hurt you and I don't want to say something out of line.”

Rick slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Talk. I'll listen.”

“Temper?”

“No, temper. I promise, Nayna,” he said, pulling her head down onto his chest.

“Okay....We just...talked and....I let him get under my skin. I wasn't prepared. Our biggest mistake would be to underestimate him. You know he knew right away that I once was a cop.”

“You weren't a cop. You were a Federal Agent.”

He could feel her rolling her eyes against his chest. When she pulled back to look up at him, he saw the shut the fuck up look in her eye. He grinned. There she was. 

“I was a Federal Cop. Better?”

“Not really. How did he know that?”

She pulled away from him and stood, seemingly agitated. “Maybe he saw my Sig? Not many civilians carried Sigs that I know of because of the no safety thing. Maybe I just have a cop face like he said....But it doesn't matter. All that matters is that he knew and he caught me off guard right away. And I couldn't get a read on him. One minute he was a gentleman and the next he was a total fucking asshole.”

Rick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He sighed. “Great, another psychopath.”

Nayna had gone to the railing and was leaning over. Rick felt his gaze flit over her behind for more than just a moment. She turned back to him, chewing on her lip as she crossed her arms over her chest. He looked down, ashamed to be caught, but she wasn't paying attention to him.

“You know those don't actually exist, Rick. It's called anti-social personality disorder. And something tells me that Negan doesn't fit that mold. Not exactly, or he's one of the rare ones that do feel emotions. It's hard to define, but it's not that simple.”

He raised his brows. “Sounds fucking simple enough. You know what Jesus said he did to that 16 year old.”

“Yeah and yet, he didn't do it to us.”

“Why?”

“That's what I need to find out, but....” Nayna sighed. “There are things I might have to keep from you, for everyone's safety and there are things I have to tell you that...they're going to hurt you Rick.”

She looked down, picking invisible threads from her shirt. 

“Like what? No temper, promise.”

“I think he's trying to pit me against you. Use me to get to you.”

Rick nodded. “Makes sense.”

And it made perfect sense. It also made him sick to his stomach. But he had no one else to blame but himself.

“What did he say?”

“No, that's something I'm not going to share,” she said, wrapping her arms around her waist, her eyes sliding back out of focus as she retreated into herself.

Rick fought the urge to jump up and go to her. To wrap his arms around her and beg it out of her. Maybe he could before. But we wasn't so sure anymore. Nayna didn't keep things from him. The Nayna he used to know. One meeting down and Negan had undone three years of bonding. Rick had never in his life hated anyone as much as he hated that asshole. Unless it was himself.

They lingered in silence for a time. Nayna standing under a darkening sky, her hair whipping out of her braid by the wind, shivering with her arms around herself. And him, sitting on the porch swing, full of self-loathing and anger and helplessness, with his elbows on his knees and his neck craned to view her face.

She was the first to speak. “When are we going on that run?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Who's going?” She turned her gaze onto him, biting her lips into whiteness.

“I am. Glenn, Daryl and Aaron.”

“You forgot me,” she said smiling wryly. 

“Are you sure...?”

“Oh, for fucks sake, Rick,” she said finally losing her patience. “I'm not a fucking invalid. Stop wearing ballet shoes around me.”

He snorted and she turned her face to hide a growing smile. “Ballet shoes?”

“You know, because you're dancing around me!”

He snorted again and she pushed the swing backwards with her foot. Ricks boots slid on the porch as he tried to catch his footing. Nayna openly laughed at him as he righted himself. He sat back and lifted his feet from the ground, swaying back and forth with the swing. He grabbed Nayna's wrist and pulled her down with him, laughing as she shrieked, trying to get away.

They ended up in a heap on the wooden floor of the porch. Nayna rolled off him and lay panting on her back.

Rick grunted. “I guess you can come.”

“Fuck you,” she mumbled as she pulled herself up. Nayna offered him and hand which he took. He groaned as she yanked him up.

“I'm getting too old for this shit,” he winced, rubbing his back.

“Probably,” she said, smiling her old smile at him. Rick was relieved and he brushed her hair from her face out of habit.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Meet me at Maggie's tomorrow morning?” 

She picked at the ends of her braid. “Sure, thing, what time and what for?”

“Tenish and plans for the run.”

“Okay.”

“My turn to patrol,” he said and hugged her. He whispered in her ear, “I'm here if you want to talk, Nayna.”

“Thanks, Rick,” she said and stood on tip toe to brush her lips across his cheek.

A dark thought occurred to him. Maybe she hadn't wanted to talk because Negan had taken advantage of her in more ways than she let on. The sick feeling in his stomach only deepened, making the urge to vomit strong.

He didn't let go as he should have, instead he only held her closer and laid his chin on the top of her head. “I'm glad you're here.”

She snorted, sending her warm breath over his throat and down the front of his shirt. “Me too.”

He kissed the crown of her head and squeezed her elbows before pushing off and heading down the road for his shift. He glanced back to find her watching him, a far off, sad look in her eyes that puzzled him.

 

The next morning he knocked on Maggie's door. It was Enid who answered. She smiled and gestured for him to come in.

“Thanks, is--?”

“Yeah. Nayna, Maggie and Eugene are in the kitchen making plans...Um, is Carl around?”

Rick grinned. “He's back at the house.”

Enid smiled again and started down the steps. She turned. “Thanks Rick.”

Rick waved and shook his head. He really needed to have a talk with Carl. Sooner rather than later.

“So, can you make a decent map, Eugene?” Nayna asked. Rick noted the agitation in her voice, not angry, but almost excited. The same voice she had when they planned supply runs. Oh she had a bug up her ass again. He smiled. 

After he'd gone to bed the previous night after his patrol, he'd heard her get up and go to the kitchen. She never did that unless she had an idea that couldn't wait. She'd sat down there nearly all night, whispering to herself, until Rick himself had fallen asleep.

Rick stood in the door frame with his hands in his pockets, watching Nayna scribble on Maggie's whiteboard. He squinted to make out the squiggly letters, her handwriting was horrible. Doctor horrible.

“I am no cartographer but...affirmative. What is the purpose of said map?” 

“Expansion,” Nayna said as she turned to face Maggie and Eugene. Rick caught her gaze and she grinned. Her eyes danced and her dimples peaked through her cheeks. He hadn't seen her smile like that since...since the prison. He'd missed it.

“Expansion for what?” Rick asked.

Maggie and Eugene turned to look at him.

“Crops, livestock, plants, trees,” Maggie said, spreading the papers out in front of her. “Nayna and I have been working on this all morning.”

“As have I,” Eugene said, affronted.

“I'm sorry. Eugene too. He's been a great help.”

“Where's Glenn?” Rick asked as she stepped forward to take a seat.

“He's on gate guard duty.”

Rick nodded. “We're planning on doing a supply run tomorrow.”

“I'll let Glenn know,” Maggie said.

Rick leaned back, rubbing his beard. “Show me these plans.”

After Nayna had outlined her basic plan Rick frowned and leaned forward. “Where are we going to get seeds for all these vegetables? You know all the stores have been cleaned out...”

“Stores like HellMart and Target maybe. But what about Home Depot or Lowes? They always carried seed packets. Or greenhouses and gardens. Or houses. Or....Hilltop if necessary. We can trade them some of Eugene's ammo.”

“If they haven't gone over yet,” Maggie said, tapping the table. “I like this, Rick.”

“Hmmm,” Rick said, rubbing his beard. He really needed to shave, but Michonne and Nayna both liked to steal his razors and make them dull. Too dull to shave his face.

Nayna looked at him with her knowing eyes. “Rick, we need something long term. You said it yourself, Alexandria is the perfect place. And we can't let Negan hold us back. The more we produce, the--”

“--the more shit they'll take.”

Oh he was feeling cynical, so cynical.

Nayna squinted at him. She saw it too. She shook her head at him. “But at least we won't starve, Rick. Come on, we have to get back on our feet. We need to establish trade with Hilltop.” She was slapping her hand in her other palm as she spoke. “We need to get things running. We need to....We need to let go of the archaic life we're trying to live. Don't you see? We won't have running water forever. We might not have electricity forever. I don't know how those fucking windmills operate.”

Eugene coughed. “Wind turbines.” They all looked at him. “And if I had a book, you bet your sweet ass I could figure out how to operate and maintain the ones we have now.”

“Maggie, are you keeping track?” Nayna asked, the excitement returning to her voice.

Maggie smiled at Nayna as she scribbled on a spare piece of paper. “I sure am. So, seeds, books, anything else?”

Nayna gnawed on her lip, not meeting Rick's eyes. “Yes....And it's not going to go over well with you Rick, but I promise it's a good idea.”

“If it's dogs again, the answer is no,” Rick said. “They're a liability.”

She stomped her foot. “If you don't know how to train them. Come on Rick. If we get livestock and cattle, herding dogs. Dogs to guard the gate. Dogs who can smell walkers and alert us. Dogs as pets to raise morale. Stop being stubborn. Dogs are the perfect working animal. They have the instinct of thousands of years of human contact and relations.”

“She is correct, you do know that?” Eugene broke in. He shifted in his seat. “Dogs respond to body language and other nonverbal cues. Something that no other animal does on a regular basis...Though I believe horses can read some body language as well.”

Rick sighed. “I agree with the horses. Nayna...where would we find dogs? The only ones I've seen since the outbreak were....the ones--”

“--don't,” Nayna said holding up her hand. Another point of contention between them. She'd downright refused to eat the dogs on the road and she'd nearly fainted from low blood sugar because of it. And nearly caused the group to get eaten by walkers. He would never throw it in her face, because he knew she felt guilty enough. She strode over to him and kneeled down to look him in the eye. Her brown ones were wide and pleading. “Rick...I know you don't like dogs...”

“I do like dogs. I just...”

“You're thinkin too much about Negan, Rick,” Maggie said, leaning over to pat his hand. “Life goes on and so do we. Right now the best compromise is to keep an eye out for dogs on the road. If we see one and it's safe, we'll pick it up. If not, then no dogs.”

“How are you going to train them? Do you even know how? What if they start barking and draw in a herd?”

“Dogs can be trained not to bark. I know some basics. I can get a---”

Rick tried his best not to roll his eyes. “--a book, yeah okay. I guess we'll just add a trip to the bookstore to our supply run.”

Nayna tilted her head to the side, looking at Rick with her own puppy dog eyes. Ones she knew he couldn't resist. He shook his head.

“I wanted to go find a bookstore anyway. I would really like a few books. Survival guides. Wild plant guides. Farming guides for the rest of us idiots,” she smiled at Maggie who smiled back. “How to fletch arrows, make leather, hunt, smoke meat. Books on childbirth. Just in case.”

“Manuals, how-to-guides. Right now, our best weapon is knowledge and information,” Eugene said, nodding importantly. “We need a library.”

“Eugene, that's brilliant,” Maggie said and Nayna jumped up on the balls of her feet and ran to scribble it on the whiteboard.

Rick smiled, despite himself. Her excitement was contagious and Eugene's idea of a library was indeed brilliant. This was the Nayna he remembered from the prison, from before Negan. The one who got shit done and was happy to do so.

He looked at the three of them and realized they were right. He wanted this as much as they did. For Judith and Carl. For Nayna and Michonne. For everyone in Alexandria. 

“That is a good idea....Eugene, I don't know what we'd do without you,” Rick said and he slapped Eugene on the back. The latter looked down at his hands, either in shame or modesty, Rick didn't know, but he saw Nayna's soft gaze, reading Eugene's mood. Something she was always good at.

“We also need to find seeds for fruit trees. Wheat, barley, rye....corn,” Nayna said, an attempt to draw the attention away from Eugene. She bit her lip and rolled her eyes upwards as if reading off a list from which only she could see. 

Maggie cleared her throat. “How many are we taking on the supply run? Have Tara and Heath returned yet?”

“No, they haven't. They were supposed to be back a few days ago....” Rick said.

Nayna, Maggie and Eugene looked at him and then at each other. All of them were thinking the same thing. They hoped the Saviors hadn't gotten to them first.

“When we're on the road, we'll look for them,” Rick said. “We have an idea of where they should be.”

The three of them nodded in agreement.

“We should take no more than six,” Nayna said. “You, me, Glenn, Daryl, Aaron, and--”

“--I'll go,” Eugene said softly.

“Are you sure?” Rick asked him. 

“Yes, I am quite sure. I am ready and I am the only one who knows what books are necessary when it comes to the wind turbines, the solar panels, the water sewage system. I can do this. You can count on me.”

Nayna smiled and put her hand on Eugene's shoulder. “Of course we can. Thank you, Eugene.” She turned back to Rick, letting her hand fall slack against her thigh. “Maggie and Michonne should be in charge.”

“Agreed.”

“We can finalize the details tomorrow before we leave. I'll make lists of everything we're looking for. I'm sure I'll have thought of a thousand and one things we need by then,” Nayna said, a little breathlessly. Rick smiled at her and she smiled back. “Eugene? Let's go make that map.”

“On your six, boss.”

Rick heard Nayna snorting as she and Eugene left the house. He heard her say, “Do you even know what that means?”

And then Eugene's long and drafty explanation faded as Maggie and Glenn's front door closed. Rick remained sitting at the table, watching the door.

“Rick,” Maggie said, startling him out of his revere. He turned his head to her, raising his eyebrows.

Maggie reached over and squeezed his hand again. “Rick...It's all gonna work out the way it's supposed to. We all got jobs to do and she's doin hers.”

Rick's gaze turned back to the door. “Doesn't mean I like it.”

“None of us do, Rick, but we're getting by. We're going to make this happen. I think Nayna could make it happen by sheer will alone, if she really tried.”

Rick laughed. There was no denying that. Once she got an idea in her head, it was like someone lit a fire under her ass and she was go go go. It was one of the things he loved most about her.


	9. The Way Things Go

NAYNA

She sat cross legged on one of the posts, picking at the lunch Carol had packed her. Cold ham and cucumbers and green peppers. Before the end of the world, she'd hated both cucumbers and green peppers. Fuck, she still hated them, but waste was a sin worse than death. The ham was dry, through no fault of Carol, more like jerky and her jaws ached from chewing. It was her own fault. She'd left the ham in a little too long while she'd gone to add to her plans.

Rick and Carl both lied to her face and said how delicious it was. But it wasn't and she knew it. She'd never been particularly good at cooking. Or laundry, as one glance at her dusty leggings would show. Or anything remotely household related, as her room would show. 

Every few minutes she would glance out to the road and then back down to Sasha who was sitting with a book in her lap and a rifle against her thigh. Then she would look over at Spencer on the other post beside of her. He liked to lean over and stare into nothingness. Fine with her. She appreciated the silence. Their house was always filled with some kind of noise. Judith crying. Or Carl talking. Or Rick muttering to himself. Or Carol cooking. 

At least on patrol, or on guard duty she didn't have to make small talk and pretend she was a polite person anymore. She used to be the epitome of politeness and etiquette. There was no use for exceptional politeness anymore. Kindness and compassion, yes, but that other shit she tried not to worry about. She realized it was off-putting and it was probably why many of the Alexandrians didn't like her aside from Aaron and Eric. 

It was only an hour into her shift and she was baking underneath the intense glare of the sun. Even her hair felt hot and damp to the touch. Worse than the beating sun? The fucking humidity. The kind that made her hair pouf and frizz out from her braid. The kind that felt like the other morning, breathing through the tube of Vaseline again. 

The heat made her feel sick to her stomach and dizzy and not even a little hungry. Even if the ham was good, she wouldn't be able to eat it. God, she would kill for one of Negan's sodas. The very thought had her mouth watering. 

She pushed the foil away and sighed. “Hey Spencer!”

He looked over at her with his scruffy face. “Yeah?”

“Want some lunch?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She wrapped the foil up in a nice square and stood up, arm poised to throw. “Ready? Catch!”

As it arced over the post she had a sinking feeling she hadn't thrown it hard enough. Poor Eugene. But Spencer stretched out over the railing and caught it with ease. 

He nodded at her. “Thanks.”

At least someone would enjoy her lunch. She sat back down and leaned her back against the railing of her own post, staring out at the horizon. Another slow, hot hour passed and Spencer was relieved by Michonne.

“Aren't you supposed to be on the run?” Michonne called out to her.

Nayna blew her bangs back from her sweaty face. “I was. But Tara and Heath came back this morning while you were on patrol. Aren't you supposed to be in bed?”

“I can sleep when I'm dead,” Michonne said with a twinkle in her eye.

Nayna snorted. “Won't we all?”

She leaned over the wall, popping her cramping neck. The sweat pooled on her upper lip, between her breasts, and disgustingly enough, in her fucking boots. But steel toed boots did that, even without the extreme heat. She had no idea how William wore those fuckers day in and day out. Especially on the fucking flight deck. It was awful. Handy, but fucking awful. And extra especially because they weren't even her size, but William's. So she had several extra pairs of socks stuffed in each toe. Which meant extra heat. Good in the winter and nasty as all fuck in the summer.

Michonne grunted next to her and swung her arms in wide circles. She caught Nayna's stare and smiled and Nayna couldn't help but smile back. 

She loved Michonne and she was happy for her and Rick, but there was always the hint of jealousy. Nayna tried to shrug it off. Michonne was one of her closest friends, and Nayna didn't want that to come between them. 

“Nayna, did you talk to her about...?”

“Yeah, I told Rick I'd handle it. So he took Abraham out on the run instead. And I got the happy, happy task of telling Tara that her girlfriend is dead....”

“Rick would've done it, you know. Or I would have. Or Daryl...”

“I'm not mad at Rick, Michonne. At least,” she grinned. “Not yet anyway. It's just...one of the hardest things you ever have to do. My partner and I only had to do it twice. I got sick both times. And it's so much worse when you know both people.” 

“I'm sorry.”

She waved Michonne off. “C'est la vie.”

Michonne pursed her lips and they both fell silent as a dark cloud passed over the sun. Nayna blinked, adjusting her eyes to the sudden darkness and ignored the sharp pain in her forehead. 

She grunted and sat cross legged again, facing the road, staring into nothingness, trying to remember all the little mind tricks she and Sean, her partner, used to play while sitting in the surveillance van. Twenty questions. I, spy. Ditch Dog. Thumb tap. It was always more fun with two people. 

Only four more hours to go, she thought to herself as she wiped sweat from her brow and flung it to the side. She wiped her damp palms on her leggings.

“Oh dear god. What is this?” Michonne asked.

Nayna looked up to see a very familiar truck heading their way. What the epic fuck? She yanked the whistle out of her vest and blasted twice to alert everyone in the vicinity. Of course he would fucking show up when Rick wasn't there.

“I've got this,” she said to Michonne and Sasha. “Just keep a hand on your weapons at all times.”

“You sure it's him?” Sasha called up to her.

“Same truck as the drop off,” Nayna said, squinting and shading her eyes with her hand as the sun reappeared.

“Michonne....go get Carl and Judith and take them to the church.....Sasha, go round up as many people as you can and get them guns. I'd rather have everyone prepared. Go!”

Nayna leaned over the wall, watching Negan swing out of the truck. He peered up at her and his face split into a wide grin.

“Hey there, doll. Fanfuckingtastic day, isn't it?”

“What can I do for you boys?” She called down to them. Another two cars pulled up behind the truck, carrying an additional five men each, along with Negan and his driver. Making a total of twelve fully armed, fully trained men at their gate. Shit, fuck, shit.

“You gonna open the fucking gate, doll?”

“Can I ask why for?”

Negan's eyes narrowed. “No, you fucking can't. Open the goddamn gate or I'll have Steve drive the fucking truck through it.”

“Hey, don't be an asshole. I'm just doing my job as gate guard,” she groused. Inside she was panicking. She didn't want to let them in, especially not with Rick gone. Nayna climbed down the post as slow as she could, sucking in deep breaths. 

Negan rapped on the bars. “Little pig, little pig let me in.”

The men behind him snickered and she rolled her eyes, pushing herself towards the gate.

She was working the hooks when she looked up at Negan and said, “I hope you weren't calling me a pig.”

“Oh for fucks--”

“Relax, Negan. It was a joke, not a dick. Don't take it so hard,” she said and grunted as she slid the gate open.

He glared at her for two beats and then threw his head back laughing. “Fucking hell. Where is Rick the Prick?”

“Not here. He's on a supply run,” she said crossing her arms and throwing her hip out to the side.

“Well isn't that a bitch. How the fuck are ya, doll?” Negan grinned and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. 

She stared at him. “What do you want, Negan?”

“Is that any fucking way to talk to someone who fucking brought you a fuckin gift?” He asked, putting his hands on his hips, the grin still teasing his mouth.

“What, the gift of your presence?” She asked dryly.

Negan snorted, but reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a soda. “And here I fucking was thoughtful enough to bring you a diet coke.”

Her gaze flickered over the soda and her mouth watered. She pinched her lips between her teeth, trying to block out the thoughts of fizz and bubbling and thirst. Negan watched her face and tsk tsk'ed as he drew the can back. The sun glittered off the silver of the can and beads of condensation dribbled down Negan's gloved fingers. Fuck it was cold. Tempting, so very very tempting.

“Now, doll, I may be inclined to fucking give you this soda if you fucking apologize and ask nicely.”

She snorted and looked back at Negan. “Yeah, on the 12th of nope.”

“Your fucking loss, doll,” he said. She expected him to jam the soda back into his pocket. Instead he held it to her cheek. She nearly moaned in appreciation. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. But it felt so good on her red, hot face.

“You fuckin sure don't want to fucking apologize?”

She squinted up at him and he laughed at her. “You fucking have to think about it, don't you, doll?”

“The answer is still no, Negan. Now what can I fucking do for you?”

He pulled the cool can away from her face and she nearly whimpered as he stuffed it back into his pocket.

She shook her head. “Why are you here, Negan?”

He glanced around. “Because, Meghan, you and your fucking pal, Rick, fucking stiffed us. And so we're coming to collect exactly what we're fucking owed.”

Nayna held up her hand. “Whoa, what do you mean, stiffed you? We gave you half of everything. If you don't believe me I have inventory sheets to back it up. From before AND after. Each dated and timestamped with mine and Olivia's signatures. You'll find what we gave you, matches the inventory sheets exactly, and if you go back and count what we did give you, you'll find that matches the before.”

“Well, when Rick the Prick gets back, we'll work on that. Plus whatever he's bringing the fuck back.”

“Why can't we just do it now?” She snapped.

Negan brushed his fingertips over her face. “You've got your fucking cop face on, doll. How about you drop the act and we can fucking...chat?”

Goddamn him. She looked at the ground, squaring her jaw, gathering all the patience she could muster. She just wasn't in the fucking mood for this. She needed a shower and new clothes. And then maybe she'd be back on her game....But then she was just probably kidding herself, since he loved to worm his way under her skin.

“I'm on guard duty right now,” she said dully, but Negan shook his head.

“My men can guard your fucking precious gate.”

“I'm not comfortable with that.”

“Fine fucking call someone else, then,” Negan snapped.

They glared at one another for a moment and then she stomped over to the gate and grabbed the walkie. “Sasha? Over.”

The walkie crackled. “Go for Sasha. Over.”

“Hey, it's Nayna. Can you come back and resume your shift, please? I have....things....I need to do. Over.”

“Copy that. Over.”

“Now that you've fucking taken care of that, doll,” Negan smiled and put a hand on the small of her back. “How about we fucking get out of here and find somewhere more...private?” He'd taken the opportunity to lean in and whisper the last bit in her ear, sending shivers over her spine. 

She stepped back and surveyed him. There was no use in resisting, he would just keep coming on harder and stronger. And maybe he'd take it out on someone else. His eyes searched her face as his smiled turned into the lusty grin of a man who just won a piece of pie.

“Sure, but mind if I go home and shower first?” She tried to keep her voice even and her face from turning redder as Negan's eyes flashed when she mentioned the word shower.

“Lead on, doll.”

“I don't need an escort.”

“It wouldn't be very fucking gentlemanly of me to let a poor damsel walk home alone, now would it?”

She stopped and faced him with her hands on her hips. “I don't do damsel in distress. If I need saving, I'm well prepared. I save myself.”

Negan chuckled. “I know. That's why I fucking like you.”

“Mmm and I thought you liked me for my sarcasm and my...ah...what was it?” She rolled her eyes upwards as if she were trying to remember something. “Oh, my salty attitude.”

He stepped towards her until he was almost touching her and leaned in close to whisper “And your warm gooey center, doll.”

As if she weren't already warm enough, the combination of his breath against her skin, his gravelly voice in her ear and his words in her mind, set her innards on fire. Nayna leaned back, licking her lips, annoyed with the rumble of laughter coming from his throat. She put a hand on his chest and pushed him away. Behind her, Negan's men were snickering.

“Stop,” she said firmly. “What are you doing?”

“What does it fucking look like, doll? I'm actively trying to fucking hit on you and you're just painfully oblivious.”

“Or maybe it's creepy and you should stop because I don't find it flattering.”

He laughed again. “Then why the fuck are your cheeks all red?”

She reached up to swipe at them. “It's fucking hot out here.”

“You keep fuckin telling yourself that doll. Denial, not just a river in fuckin Egypt.”

He put a firm hand on the small of her back and pushed her forward. She grunted and started to shuffle home.

Nayna kept her head down, taking long strides. But Negan's legs were longer and he easily matched her pace. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, boring angry holes into her. They already hated her and now, here she was fraternizing with the enemy. Against her will, and they knew that, but it was all the same to them. 

“Can't wait to see Rick the Prick's house.”

She glanced sideways at him. “How do you know I live with Rick?”

Negan grinned. “I fucking didn't until now.”

“Fuck you.”

“Mmm, maybe later, if you're fucking nice to me, doll.”

“Again, that'll happen on the 12th of nope.”

Negan stopped and grabbed her elbow, spinning her around to face him. Thankfully, they had reached a part of town where there was no one around. They were utterly alone. He backed her up against the nearest tree and rested his hands on her hips. “Somehow I really fucking doubt that. You want me, you just don't realize it yet.”

She pressed herself backwards into the tree, leaning back from his incoming face. But all that did was help trap her more as he pressed his very hot body against her sweaty one. Her face burned and her lips tingled. She wanted another kiss. Fuck. Every beat of her heart screamed for it and even her brain was a flutter with nervous anticipation. And dread. And anger and a million other emotions she couldn't identify. 

“Bullshit,” she gasped, her voice a little over a whisper. 

Negan said nothing, his eyes still searching her face. She felt herself curling, wilting under the scrutiny of his gaze. Goddamnit, she wished he would stop playing it out and just fucking kiss her and get it over with.

He let go of her hips. She let go of the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Their eyes were locked, an internal battle of wills. His hands came to gently cup either side of her face and he tilted her head back, still gazing at her with his heady stare. Her eyes fluttered closed as he bent down and claimed her lips with his own.

Last time she hadn't kissed back. She'd been too stunned. But she wasn't caught off guard again. Nayna allowed Negan to explore her lips, to crush his mouth against hers, all the while she reciprocated, letting the shocks of his kiss wash over her, cool and refreshing against the sweltering mug of heat. His mouth was hungry and wet on hers. The sheer desire emanating from him was enough to make her knees wobbly and weak. Her fingers curled into his white T-shirt for balance, and she felt the steady rhythm of his heart under her hand. 

He worked her lips apart and when they broke open, he snaked his tongue between them, set on probing every inch of her mouth. She groaned in response, feeling her own desire awaken in a rush of warm, wet, fire. Her arms encircled his neck and she smashed herself against his chest. All she wanted was more, more, more. 

Her belly tightened as he broke their kiss and she tried not to whimper. He stroked his thumbs over her eyebrows and his lips brushed hers as he growled at her. “Are you fucking sure you don't want me, doll?” 

“No,” she panted, unable to meet his eyes. “I don't.”

“Bull-fucking-shit,” he said and leaned forward for another taste. 

Someone cleared their throat loudly beside them. Nayna jumped and yanked her head back to look over at whoever was bothering them. It was Michonne. Her face was steely as she glared at Negan. 

“Excuse the fuck out of me, but you're fucking interrupting,” Negan said, though the good humor had returned to his gravelly voice, there was a huskiness that made her heart skip a beat.

“Nayna, Rick's back. He's waiting in the church with Father Gabriel.”

“Thanks, Michonne,” she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Odd, they shouldn't have been back for another day or two. At least according to the maps Eugene had laid out.

Negan smirked. “Tell him I'm fucking busy right now, but I'll catch up with him. Now fucking run along, Michonne.”

She'd turned her gaze onto Nayna, soft and pitying before she turned around to walk back to the church. A rush of guilt overwhelmed her and she looked down at her toes. Fucking asshole. And she liked it.

Negan reached under her chin to tilt her upwards to look at him. “Where the fuck were we, doll?”

His grin unnerved her, and she felt a horrible sinking in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want to do it. She wanted her old life. The one where Negan hadn't existed. She wanted to run away, to hide behind Rick. Instead, she closed her eyes and kissed him.


	10. The Things We Let Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, over 1100 views. I am very grateful to all of you guys. Thank you for sticking with me. My sincerest apologies if this chapter is rushed, but I wanted to get something up because within the next week my husband is returning after a long time away and I have several college projects I'm working on, so I may not be able to get anything up until next Monday. Hopefully sooner, but if not, just a warning. After the next diary entry, there will be a surprise POV! So there is that to look forward to as well. Love you all, hope you enjoy!!!!!

RICK

He stroked one hand over Judith's blonde curls, while holding Carl's shoulder with the other. Negan was here. With his children and his people. As if the supply run hadn't been fucked up enough, now this. Everyone was on high alert, glaring at him as he'd walked through the town. Michonne had grabbed him and dragged him to the church to explain that Nayna was with Negan.

His stomach had coiled up then and he'd tried to keep his temper down. But what could Nayna have done? He knew this, but it didn't make his anger any easier to bear.

“I caught them...making out,” Michonne muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “Negan said they were busy and he'd be along whenever...”

Jesus Christ. Rick furiously rubbed his hands over his eyes. He hated the thought that Negan was groping his Nayna with those large, nasty paws of his, with his mouth all over Nayna's. And it was all his own fault. He had thrown her to the wolf at the door to keep him at bay. And now Rick just had to suffer knowing that eventually Nayna would be caught under Negan's big hairy body, trembling and crying, both of them writhing for different reasons. 

Finally, after what felt like an hour of waiting, Negan came strolling down the street, whistling an nonsensical tune. Rick's temples pounded as he and Carl and Michonne stepped out of the church to meet Negan on the road.

Negan motioned to one of his men and they brought forth that fucking bat, Lucille. Rick's heart dropped just to see it. He wondered how many men Negan had fucking killed with it. At least a dozen, from the way Jesus told it. 

“Hold this for me, Rick,” Negan grinned and shoved the handle into his hands, humiliating him in front of Michonne, his son and everyone else in town. He was just glad Nayna wasn't there to see it.

“Wasn't the supply drop enough?” Rick asked through gritted teeth.

Negan on the other hand gnashed his own, chuckling as he stepped closer to Rick. “Well, you tell me, fucker. Was it enough?”

Rick only glared so Negan continued on. “If it was enough, why the fuck would I fucking be here again, asshole? Fucking wasting my gas. Your gas. Your time....Well, not my fucking time at least.”

His fingers curled tighter around the bat but Negan shook his head. “You fucking so much as raise that bat at me and my men will mow you the fuck down.”

“Don't you threaten my father.”

Rick glanced over to find Carl standing on the sidewalk, his hands balled into fists. His heart dropped in fear. “Carl,” he said, his voice hoarse with anxiety. “Go home.”

Negan threw a Rick a look over his shoulder as he strode over to Carl. “Now, don't be fucking rude Rick.”

“You should all go the fuck home,” Carl said, trembling with anger. “Before you learn how fucking dangerous we really are.”

“Carl!”

“Whoa, I said don't be fucking rude, Rick. Jesus fucking Christ, we're trying to have a conversation here. Now, if you'll excuse the shit out of my goddamn french...but did you just threaten me?” Negan growled, bending to Carl's level with one hand on his knee, holding his free hand out to Rick.

Rick's heart constricted in his chest. He wanted to run to Carl and knock Negan away. 

Negan stared into Carl's face before Carl backed away. Negan smirked. “That's what I thought. Now listen to your daddy and run the fuck along.”

Carl looked at him with rage echoing in his eye. Rick jerked his head to the side and Carl just shook his head in judgment. Rick, Michonne and Negan watched him hustle away, back towards their house. Hopefully Nayna would catch him and calm him down. She was good at talking people down.

“Rick, Rick,” Negan said, shaking his head. “Your kid has some serious man-sized balls. Bigger than yours. Fuck they may even be bigger than Nayna's balls.”

His gaze snapped from his son's retreating back to Negan. “What?”

Negan laughed. “Come the fuck on Rick, just look at her. Fucking gonads the size of Texas.”

No, Rick wasn't going to let Negan goad him into a conversation about Nayna. She was the one subject that was off limits completely. So he simply narrowed his eyes and watched Negan chuckle to himself.

“Now, the pretty lady was telling me you did indeed give us half your fucking shit. I believe her. But I think her fucking idea and my fucking idea of half your fucking shit are not compatible ideas.”

“That so?” Rick asked stiffly, his hands curling into fists at his sides, just like his sons a moment before. 

“Oh that is fucking so. You have far more than just food and medicine. And that is all we fucking received from you assholes. And we're here to take the remainder of our fair fucking share. And I don't think you gave us all the fucking medicine you could.”

The graveyard flashed in Rick's mind, but there was no way Negan could have known and Nayna wasn't stupid enough to mention it to anyone else. 

Rick clenched his jaw and muttered “I think you got more than your fair fucking share, Negan.” 

Negan grinned, realizing he was inadvertently talking about Nayna. “Oh, don't get your panties in a twist, yet. It's only the fucking beginning.”

He threw his arms out to the side. “Just fucking leave, Negan, you've got enough.”

“Do I now? You're a fucking idiot, Rick,” Negan said pointing Lucille in his face. “You're going to take me on a fucking tour of this place, while my men split up and search the rest of the houses.”

He glanced over at Michonne who was swaying back and forth with Judith on her hip. She nodded in quiet assent. She didn't agree, but she knew there was no choice.

As Negan's men began their search, everyone started to crowd around in the street. They all looked at him inquisitively and Rick felt small and helpless. And beyond pissed. Temper, temper, Nayna's soft voice sounded in his head. He swallowed and took in five deep breaths.

“What did you want to see first?” Rick muttered, feeling defeated.

“Why--” Negan started but was interrupted by Heath running down the road.

“Rick!” Heath panted. “Come quick....It's Tara.”

He pushed past Negan, still holding Lucille, and ran with Heath who led him to the infirmary. When he walked in, he sighed. Tara was holding one of the Saviors at gunpoint.

She looked at Rick with red-rimmed eyes. So Nayna had told her....“We agreed to half! Not all of it. Half! Rick!”

Negan moved past him and pawed through the box and then looked at the remaining medicine on the shelves. He turned back to Tara with his hands on his hips, a slight smirk playing on his face. “And it fucking seems that my esteemed colleague here has taken exactly half.”

“No! He's left--”

“On a technicality it is still half,” Negan said, just as calm as before. He swiveled his stare at Rick who sighed.

“Tara put the gun down.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? They fucking kill my girlfriend and they steal half our shit and you're just going to let them get away with it? And you're going to let him molest Nayna?”

“Hey!” Negan yelled. “I'm not molesting her. I'm not into that sick shit. I might be into a lot of fucking shit, like some good old fashioned girl on girl fucking, but I don't fucking rape. It's fucking abhorrent.”

Tara lowered her gun, shaking her head. “You fucking pig.”

“That's Mr. Fucking Pig to you. Gus, go load that shit into the motherfucking truck. I'd like to fucking get on with my fucking day.”

Negan turned to Rick, the unseemly grin replaced on his face. “Now, where the fuck were we? Oh yes, something Nayna had fucking said earlier. So you fucks still have fucking running water?”

“Yeah, so?” Rick shifted to his other leg, reaffirming his grip on the fucking bat.

“Jesus fuckballs on fucking toast. This is like a fucking paradise. Walls and fucking room, and fucking empty houses and running fucking water,” Negan laughed and elbowed Gus. “This is going to be my fucking vacation home. Think anyone here has a pool table?”

No one answered him and he rolled his eyes. “Come the fuck on, someone has to have a pool table.”

Behind them Spencer said, “I do.”

Fucking Spencer. 

Negan turned to him, grinning. “Guess what that makes you?”

Spencer backed up a little. “What?”

“You're my new fucking best friend. Rick, have you fucking met my new best friend, Spencer?”

Rick turned his gaze to Spencer who backed up as he said, “Uh yeah come anytime.”

“Oh I fucking will. With bells. Fucking quiet ones.”

And then under the combined stares of Heath, Tara and Rick, he scampered off. What a fucking asshole. 

“Well, my fucking job is done here,” Negan grinned and thumped back onto the road and through the throng of Alexandrians waiting for the home invasion to be over. Rick followed behind him. He still had Lucille.

Negan's men were loading things like tools and mattresses into their truck. Tobin stood with his hands on his hips next to Carol whose hand was on her forehead. Abraham, Rosita and Eugene were grouped together, glaring at the Saviors and then at Rick. Maggie, Glenn and Morgan looked at Rick sadly. Father Gabriel leaned on the door frame of the church, watching as the men pillaged the worship space. Rick rubbed his hand over his face again. What else was he supposed to do? Everyone else was giving him those looks, the ones that demanded he do something.

“I'll see you fucking fuckers later,” Negan pretended to salute them. His eyes roamed over the crowd and his gaze stopped and a foreboding grin crossed his face. Rick glanced in the direction of Negan's stare and he found Nayna standing towards the back, dressed in fresh jeans and a tight gray shirt. Her hair was braided, but damp as if she'd just gotten out of the shower. Instead of her boots she had on a pair of running shoes. As always, her Sig was holstered at her side and her bow strapped to her back, with the accompanying quiver at her other hip. She'd crossed her arms over her breasts and swung her hip to the side, wearing the same insolent look she always got when thinking or talking about Negan. 

Negan strode towards her, parting the crowd and Nayna scowled. Rick was close enough to hear Negan mutter “Cop face, doll.”

Rick watched in semi-horror as Negan bent down and kissed her full on the mouth. He watched as Nayna's frame stiffened as Negan put his hands possessively on her hips and brought her closer to him. He pulled back and traced his gloved fingers over her lips.

“See ya later, doll,” he growled, tugging at her bottom lip, letting it snap back into place. 

There was a triumphant smirk and a glow to his eyes as Negan passed Rick, who clenched his jaw so hard it ached. His hands were tightened into fists and it took everything he had not to punch Negan in his smug fucking face.

“Oh, right, I fucking forgot!” Negan cried, slapping himself in the side of the head. He swiveled about and yanked something out of his pocket. “Catch, doll!” He cried and tossed it to her.

Nayna fumbled for a moment but caught it in the end. She looked down at the soda, biting her lip.

Negan cleared his throat and cupped his ear, waiting. Nayna looked up at him and mumbled, “Thank you, Negan.”

He grinned. “You're welcome, dollface.”

And then she fled. Rick saw the glassy look in her eyes and he knew she was crying as she ran back to the house. Fuck Negan. The simmering rage he'd felt all day nearly boiled over. 

Negan snorted and yanked Lucille from Rick's hands. He leaned in and whispered. “I just fucking slid my dick down your throat and you fucking thanked me for it.”

He laughed all the way back to the truck, leaving Rick with a heaving chest and a burning heart. It had taken everything in him to not punch Negan in the face for what he did to Nayna. Michonne slipped her free arm around Rick's waist and pulled him close.

Rick slid his arm automatically around her shoulders and smoothed out Judith's hair with his other hand. But his heart and head still thought about Nayna. He'd done this to her. More than ever, he wished he hadn't made the damned deal. But he had. And now Nayna had to pay the price.

Everyone was looking at Rick as the truck rumbled out of Alexandria. He took a deep breath. “Everyone back to work or home or whatever you were doing.”

There were mutters of discontent as the crowd dispersed, leaving only himself, Michonne, Daryl, Glenn and Maggie standing there. The rest of the crowd didn't understand. Not like they did. Rick half smiled at them.

“We need to do something about this, Rick,” Glenn said, his voice soft, but angry. “You can't do this to Nayna.”

“I know,” Rick replied just as quiet. “Look, you guys meet me in the church tonight. We need a plan.”

They all nodded in unison. 

“Good. I'm going to check on Nayna and find Carl,” he said, leaning over to kiss Judith on her curly head.

“You sure that's a good idea?” Glenn asked.

“Yeah, you don't want to poke the bear,” Daryl said with a smile teasing across his lips.

Rick snorted. “I'll poke the bear. It's my turn anyway.”

They all jokingly referred to Nayna's temper as poking the bear. She could be snappy and even impatient sometimes, but when she was angry, she was a very different woman. The worst of it was the time Rick wanted wanted to hand over Michonne to the Governor. 

Rick glanced over at Michonne with an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Thank god for Nayna. That day, he'd not only poked the bear, but he'd shook the tree and let the bees loose too. She asked him straight up if he was fucking stupid. If he truly expected the Governor to leave them alone if he were to give him Michonne. He'd insisted it was true, that he'd keep his word. She called him a fucking idiot and an asshole and other names he couldn't recall. He remembered being so pissed at her and then remembered her looking at him, shaking with rage and telling him that if he did that, she would leave. She'd asked him what the fuck kind of father he was, teaching his son to take the easy way out. To be a coward. He'd insisted that they would die if they fought and she told him they would die if they gave her up. She'd said that she would rather die doing what's right than what was easy. 

He didn't want her to leave. And that was the main reason he hadn't given up Michonne. In the end he realized she'd been right all along.

And once again Rick had taken the easy way out, instead of the right way. And he'd fucked over the one person in his life who truly understood him, who held him up, who helped him when Lori died. The woman who had nearly been killed trying to save his children, over and over. He fucked over the sweetest woman he'd ever known and the best friend he'd ever had.

Rick leaned over and kissed Michonne on the cheek and started heading towards the house. He found Nayna sitting on the porch steps, her elbows on her knees and her head hanging low. The soda sat abandoned beside her.

Rick stopped in front of her and knelt down, reaching out to tilt her head up to look at him. Her large brown eyes were filled with grief and guilt. She cleared her throat and whispered,”I'm sorry, Rick.”

“No, Nayna. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I never--”

“--stop Rick. It's done now.”

“It doesn't have to be this way, Nayna. We can fix this. I will fix this.”

Nayna reached up and patted his face. “How Rick? They outnumber us at least 5 to 1.”

“There's Hilltop. We can train them. We can fight, Nayna,' he whispered, resting her forehead against hers.

She sniffed and Rick felt one of her tears drop into his beard. And suddenly he was crying too. He'd done this to her. Nayna clumsily wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“I'm so sorry, Nayna. I will make this right. I love you.”

She stiffened and he heard her swallow a sob. She put her hands on his shoulders and shoved him away from her. “Don't. Please don't.”

“Don't what?” Rick asked, confused and hurt.

“Don't say that any--”

“--Rick, Nayna?” Carol called from inside the house. “Where's Carl? Isn't it time to change his bandage?”

Rick stood slowly. “He's not in his room?”

A feeling of dread settled in his belly. Nayna stood up, her face blanching. They exchanged a look and then Nayna yanked the whistle from under her shirt and blasted one long blast.

“Come on, let's get to the rendezvous point. If he's not there, we can have everyone look for him.”

Rick put his hands over his face. “Oh god, Carl. I know where he is.”

“Where?” Nayna demanded, her dark eyes flashing.

“Negan.”


	11. Dear Diary

_Entry Number 5_

**Carl is missing. Rick is convinced Negan has something to do with it. I don't know how, seeing how Rick was with him the entire time. I've been searching half the night with everyone. Rick finally sent me to bed, but I can't fucking sleep. When I'm finished with this entry, I think I'm going to take Daryl and we're going to see if we can follow that damned truck. There has to be a way we can find the Saviors. My best guess is to head to the drop off point and go from there. Last time I went it had been systematically cleaned out of Walkers and the road seemed decently clear.**

**I am a shaking mess. I don't want anything to happen to Carl. Somehow I feel like this is my fault, even though somewhere deep inside I know it's not. I feel like I'm leading Negan on, that I'm letting him take advantage of me. And I like it. I can't lie here, I really, really enjoyed his kiss. And I feel like shit about it. It's probably my loneliness talking. I liked it and I want more. So much more.**

**Ugh, I promised Lori I would look after Carl and the baby and Rick and I feel like I'm doing a shitty, shitty job. I'm failing. I can't keep track of them anymore.**

**I've never been the girl to run away from her problems. I've always faced them head on because it's always seemed to break my anxiety. And now? All I want to do is run away and disappear into the forest and find a nice tree to live in. You know, like Katniss from the Hunger Games book. Live in a tree, live off the land. Be away from people. I've always hated people. And I can't say I like them much better now. But I can't leave Rick....**

**Goddamnit Carl. Why? Why did you have to go missing now? I'm so tired and confused and...pathetic. Yes, I am pathetic. All I do anymore is cry, or whine, or wallow. This isn't who I am.....I don't know who I am anymore....**

**I got out THE BOX last night. And I felt guilty as fuck. All my worldly treasures are in that box. And if anyone else saw its contents, they'd be fucking livid at me. And hurt. I never wanted to hurt them, but I just wanted a few things for myself. A scrap of flannel reminding me of Jim, a dried flower, pressed between the pages of Amy's favorite book, Dale's watch, a clip from Sophia's hair, a small folded baby blanket that Lori had planned for Judith, the shell casing from Andrea's death bullet, Hershel's flask, a bookmark Beth used when she sat to read the bible at night, the cap I'd gone back and stolen from Tyreese's grave. And of course, it wouldn't have been complete without Shane's fucking hat.**

**I looked at all the cherished mementos and reminded myself why I'm doing all this. It's so I don't have to ever add anything to this box again. I don't want Maggie's ring or Glenn's pocketwatch or Carol's flower or Rick's badge in there. I don't want a piece of Carl or Judith in that box. I don't think my heart could handle it.**

**But as I've said before, I feel so horribly guilty for enjoying Negan's attention. Hell, I even enjoy snipping at him because he fires it right back at me. Shane used to be that way too, and it was all in good fun. With Negan it's far more serious and I get the feeling that he likes it too. I keep trying to tell myself that keeping Negan happy keeps us alive. But everyone looks at me with such contempt. I've only seen him 3 fucking times and already I'm being raked over the fucking coals. I hate these people. They hate me and they hate Rick and we've both done nothing but try to prepare them for the real world. They're sticking to the Old World and they're dying fast. They're all fucking idiots. And sometimes, the horrible person in me, doesn't give a shit if they live or die. I suppose if they did die I would care, but how do I care about people who don't give a fuck about me? Oh right all I have to do is look at my mother.**

**I'm in a very bad headspace right now and all I need is to keep busy. So now, I'm almost glad Carl is missing because I can focus on him and ignore all these fucking feelings I'm having about Negan and his hands and his lips and his voice and his fucking body against me. And his tongue in my mouth....Oh God....all I want is his damned tongue in my mouth.**

**What in the ever loving fuck is wrong with me?**

 


	12. The Surprises We See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deep breath! Okay, firstly, this chapter has been so much fun for me to write. I REALLY REALLY hope I captured the essence of Negan without toning him down too much. I DID take some dialogue and happenings straight from the comics as inspiration. And I also tried NOT to make it too Nayna-centric, because obviously that's not how life really works! Anyway, sorry for the late update, but until probably the middle of May, I'm thinking, there will only be one to two updates at the most a week. I've just got a lot of stuff going on with my spouse about to be deployed and school and our son. I promise, I have no intention of abandoning this story (or my other ones that have sat for a bit!). 
> 
> Enjoy!

NEGAN

The truck rumbled and roared down the road, ignoring Roamers and animals alike. The further out they traveled, the worse the conditions of the roads. The truck bounced over a particularly nasty pothole, making the men inside jostle and rebound from their seats. Negan leaned forward at glared at Josh.

“Do you fucking mind watching where the fuck you're driving, assfuck?”

“S-s-sorry, sir. I didn't see...”

“How the fuck could you not see that fucking pothole? It's the fucking size of fucking Texas. Ignorant fuck.”

Josh pushed his taped glasses up his nose with a shaky finger and Negan rolled his eyes, sitting back against his seat. These fucking people. And it was his fucking responsibility to keep them all alive. He should just let them all get themselves fucking killed and be done with it. Bunch of useless fucking fuckbags.

“Smoke, boss?” Gus said offering him the pack. Negan cut his glare over to the older man, whose white hair stuck out on all sides, like tufts of cotton.

“No, I don't want a fucking smoke, that shit will fucking kill you. Goddamnit you fucks, am I the only one with some goddamn fucking sense left in this fucking fucked up fucking world?”

“Probably, boss,” Gus said, unaffected by Negan's rant. He put the cigarette between his lips and searched his pockets for a lighter.

“Yeah, no fucking dice, asswipe,” Negan said and yanked it out of Gus' mouth. “Look, fuck, if you want to kill yourself, fucking do it when I don't have to fucking smell the fucking results.”

He tossed the cigarette back at Gus and it landed in the mans lap. As usual Gus was not perturbed. He only shrugged and said “Okay, boss.”

The urge to roll his eyes was strong. One day he was going to roll his eyes and they were going to get stuck. At least that's what his fucking mother always used to tell him. And with the amount of fucking times he rolled his eyes lately, there was probably some fucking truth to it.

He looked out the window, staring into the high, wild and familiar grasses of Virginia. Roamers peppered the landscape, here and there. Always a fixture in this new strange fucking world. Three years in and he still couldn't believe the fucking dead walked. Nor could he believe he was fucking in charge of so many people. So many fucking stupid people. Negan sometimes felt he was in the middle of some kind of fucked up reality show. He still looked around for the fucking cameras. 

They jostled over several more bumps, the cargo in the back, shifting and clanking. Negan looked over his shoulder, instinctively, but he only saw the back of the seat. He glared at Josh again, that fucking boy had better pray none of the cargo was damaged or there would be fucking hell to pay.

They'd cleaned up a decent lot, along with the shit Nayna had brought to them last week. At least he wouldn't have to fucking think about feeding and clothing those fuckers for a while. All the fucking whining and moaning. Oh, Molly has a cough. Timmy fell down the fucking well, again! He hated them all. Hated anyone who couldn't, or wouldn't help themselves. Probably why he fucking hated Rick the Prick and why he liked Nayna so much.

Negan almost couldn't remember the last time he'd genuinely liked someone. Nayna was the first person he looked at with near respect in a fucking long time. She took initiative, whereas everyone else he'd met either waited for someone else to step up or they fucking fucked up. He fucking admired her for facing her shit straight on. And it was immensely fun to poke at her and watch the rippling effects. Not only did she squirm, Rick did too. But Rick bowed to the wind, whereas Nayna stood proudly and snapped back. All he fucking had to do was look at her to make Rick angry. Dumbfuckingshit. 

He hadn't lied when he told Nayna that had he been in Rick's position he'd have rather died. But then again, Rick didn't fucking have any gumption. Fucking hysterical to watch Rick's ugly face twist and grow red and wet when he touched her.

Underneath it all, Nayna was a sweet, softhearted woman with the toughest fucking exterior he'd ever seen in a woman. It was fucking sexy as hell. Not to mention her biting sarcasm and wit along with her propensity to utter the work fuck. He tried to imagine her in the old days, but she just didn't seem to fit. She was born for these days, just as he was.

Manipulating Rick was easy. Nayna took more finesse. Her bullshit meter was set to super sensitive. But the best cunts were always worth the work. 

Negan shifted uncomfortably at the thought of what lay between her thighs. He bet she guarded her cunt ferociously. She was probably super fucking tight. Jesus, fuck. And her fucking body! Her hips were meant to be held onto during rough fucking and her tits were made to swing and bounce as she walked. Fuck, he was getting hard just imagining her fucking sweet face screwed up as he jerked into her. Negan shifted again and sighed in frustration. At least he had his fucking wives he could bury his dick in. 

“You alright, boss?” Gus asked.

“Superb,” he said sarcastically and leaned forward to glare at Josh. “Can you hurry the fuck up? I want to fuck at least two of my wives tonight and if you don't fucking hurry the fuck up I won't get one, you idiotic dipshit.”

Jesus fucking Christ these people! Josh stepped on the gas, sending the three of them sliding back against the seat. And again, Negan was hard pressed not to roll his eyes. Next time someone else was fucking driving. Fucking Dwight would do.

His thoughts turned back to Nayna and her fucking soft, sweet voice. She had that slight twang on her tongue, the missing 'r' in Washington—Warshington--the transformation of t's into d's—water became wader, hotter became hodder, metal became medal. Such a slight accent that the only ones who missed it were the ones who spoke it—like him.

The grasses and trees were letting up, meaning they were finally close to home. Negan looked eagerly out the window and grinned as the familiar glass windows gleamed into view.

“Home sweet, fucking, home.”

Josh pulled in around the Roamers chained to the fences. They half-heartedly slapped at the truck and growled, but the truck just rumbled on past. After they'd backed into the loading dock, Negan jumped out of the truck and rolled his neck, relishing the loud popping sounds.

He pounded on the door and heard grumbles and groans. Too many fucking ruffled feathers in his group. The door opened and several of the men were taken aback when they saw a less than amused Negan at the door.

“Alright fuckers, let's get this shit unload---what the fuck?”

And then the gunfire started. Negan dove out of the way, flattening himself to the ground as shells and bullets ricocheted on the ground beside him. He saw three of his men fall, dead to the ground beside him and his stomach rolled. Negan crawled under the truck and clamped his hands over his ears as the gunfire echoed from above.

Finally the shots ceased and a pair of legs descended from the belly of the truck. Negan reached forward and yanked the ankles in front of him. There was a loud clatter as the machine gun fell to the ground next to them and then a grunt as whoever it fucking was fell on his face. Negan hustled his ass from underneath and rolled the person from belly to back. He looked at the one eyed face and began to laugh and laugh. He was fucking impressive, no doubt about it. Negan was intrigued. Very intrigued. Fifteen and already a cold blooded killer, just waiting to be shaped and molded. Fucking awesome. Rick was there trying to be a nice fucking guy and then there was his killing machine kid. Oh it was too fucking good to be true! 

“If it isn't Rick's son, Carl, with his gigantic man sized balls.”

Negan pushed himself up and offered Carl a hand. The latter took it, his eye squinting suspiciously up at Negan, who shook his head.

“Fucking amazing. You just fucking gunned down five or six of my fucking men.”

“I was aiming for you,” Carl snapped.

“Did you pick that fucking gun because it looks cool? You totally fucking did, didn't you? Look, kid, I'm not gonna like. You got that whole fucking future serial killer thing going on, you scare the fuck out of me. You're a fucking badass.”

“If you come quietly, I'll let the rest of your men live.”

Oh, it was just too fucking much. Negan kicked the machine gun away before he bent over laughing at the kid. 

“You're a threat to our people and you must be disposed of,” Carl said in a quiet, but heavy tone, which made Negan laugh all the more.

This fucking kid! Amazing that a kid with such big fucking balls came from Rick the fucking Prick. Rick the Prick who bent over and let himself get fucked. And here was his fucking kid, killing his men and threatening him.

“Enough,” Negan said, standing up, towering over Carl. 

Behind him, he heard footsteps pounding towards the dock.

“Boss?” Dwight called. “Everything clear? Anything to be concerned---what the fuck?”

Fucking Dwight. Negan looked up at him. “Have the men burn the bodies and unload the fucking truck while I show our new guest around.”

“Guest?” Carl asked, narrowing his eye. But Negan saw the quickest flash of fear. He broke into a grin.

“Yes, you're my guest. For fucking now.”

Negan grabbed him by the elbow and turned him around, heading towards the front doors instead.

“What are you going to do to me?” Carl asked quietly.

Negan glared down at him as they walked. He shook his head. “Number one, don't shatter my image of you. You're a fucking badass. Don't be scared of me. It's a fuckin disappointment. Number two, do you really think I'm going to ruin the surprise?”

He grinned. “Fuck you, kid.” He raised his hand and rapped on the front door. “Seriously, fuck you.”

The door creaked open and he escorted Carl inside. He probably wouldn't even get to fuck one of his wives. But there would at least be entertainment. Carl piqued his curiosity. 

“Sir!” One of the guards at the door stepped forward. Negan couldn't fucking remember the asshole's name to save his life. “I heard gunfire. Is everything okay?”

He held up one of his hands. “I'm taking care of the situation.”

Fucking Christ it was hotter than a sweaty mans ballsack. Negan shifted in his jacket, and put a hand on his hip.

The blonde boy nodded at him. “Yes, sir. Did you...Molly's still got the cough...”

“We got some good shit. I think you've got enough points for the medicine,” Negan said, slapping the young man on the back who beamed with pride. Idiot. He had no fucking idea if the dude had enough points. Not his problem until the fucker stole something.

The door across the hall opened and Carson stuck his head out. “Welcome back, sir. Is the gunfire something to worry about?”

“Nope, I'm fucking on it.”

Christ these fucking people. 

Carson nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Sir, there is a situation....”

Negan sighed. “Lead the way.”

Carson glanced down at Carl in his stupid fucking hat and turned away. Negan followed him through the door and motioned for Carl to come with them. 

If he had to chance a guess, he bet his newest wife, Amber had done fucked up. They thought he couldn't see them making googly eyes at each other. Fuck, Sherry even thought he didn't know she still looked for Dwight.

Their footsteps clanged against the rickety metal platform. Carson sniffed and jotted something down on the clipboard he always fucking carried.

Below were his 'people.' Taken in from the outside, brought into the working fold. Negan watched them with a semblance of pride. He built this. He saved these people. As much as they all were fucking stupid, he had to congratulate himself on keeping this many alive. Fuckers.

There was a low buzz among the workers below along with the sounds of clanking and banging. He looked at Carson and sighed. “Let me guess. Amber?”

“I'm afraid so, sir.”

In his head he counted to five. Fucking Amber. He knew some shit like this would happen. Unfuckingbelievable. With Mark no less. 

“What a fucking disappointment. Well, I want to talk to her first. Find Mark, but don't do anything yet, just keep tabs on him for now,” Negan said and he jabbed an awed Carl forward. The boy had been too busy taking in the floor of the factory to pay attention.

“Of course, sir. Did you need anything else?”

“No, no,” he said and waved Carson off.

Carson disappeared down the platform and into the crowd below. He cleared his throat loudly and people began to turn and stare. A ripple went through the workers and they all fell to their knees. Idiots. But he was their savior, so what the fuck ever. Negan pushed Carl down the platform and they walked side by side through the factory floor, through the throng of kneeling people, to the double doors leading to the stairs. People muttered his name as they passed and there was a sense of awe among them. Again, they were all fucking idiots. 

“As you were!” Negan roared over his shoulder, his voice echoing all around. He grinned down at Carl. “That's respect, boy. Come on, top floor.”

At the top of the stairs he allowed Carl to go first. He grinned down at the boy. “Prepare to be amazed.”

He shoved the double doors open and stepped into the leisure room where his five wives lounged about. Except for Amber and Sherry, who were huddled on the chaise lounge closest to the door. Stupid fucking Amber was sobbing. He beat back the urge to roll his eyes and instead he leaned down to whisper into Carl's ear. 

“Every woman in Alexandria dresses either like a goddamn elderly lesbian or like they're fucking going to war. You don't get much to look at so stare at their titties, knock yourself the fuck out.” Negan said waving his hand at Carl, who was indeed busy staring at the half naked women roaming about the room.

Nayna and her fucking combat boots popped into his mind. Jesus, she must have stolen them from her fucking husband, they were like fucking clown shoes on her. But she redeemed herself with her tight leggings and that fucking cargo vest that wouldn't zip over her perfect round titties. Instead it only served to push them closer together, giving her a nice fucking amount of cleavage. And Negan was pretty sure Carl wasn't fucking looking at Nayna's titties. 

He stopped, amused with himself. He was thinking far too much about Nayna. And her titties.

Thinking about titties brought him back to the matter at hand and he glared down at Amber. “God fucking damnit, Amber.”

Sherry looked up at him. “Go easy on her, Negan, she knows she fucked up.”

He rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “I ever hit any of you? Calm the fuck down.”

Sherry stood up and put a hand on his chest. He glared down at her. She knew the protocol and she flushed and let her hand slide off and drop to her side. 

But she still opened her fucking trap anyway. “Look, Negan, she made a mistake. You know the transition--”

He chopped his hand in the air. “Sherry? Shut the fuck up and back the fuck off, okay? Step the fuck aside so I can talk to her.”

One of the biggest drawbacks to having five wives? They never shut the fuck up. And of course there was always some fucking drama between the five of them. He usually didn't get involved too much with them besides sticking his dick in them.

He walked around the lounger and bent down to look Amber in the eye. “Amber, honey, you know your place here is voluntary. I don't want anyone here who doesn't want to be here. You understand that, right?”

Amber nodded shakily, the tears dropping from her cheeks onto her tits. “Yes.”

Negan gripped her cheeks between his thumb and fingers. “You can go back to Mark if you want to. Is that what you want? Go back to earning points? Working for your supper? You can do all of that. But you know what you can't do?”

“Cheat on you?” She whispered.

“Exactly!” He roared and stood. “You can't fucking cheat on me, Amber. So what the fuck is it going to be?”

“I'm staying, I love you, Negan.”

Yeah, fucking right she did. Negan was under no false impressions about any of them. They only liked being lazy and not having to work for their food. They wouldn't fucking know hard work if it slapped them on the ass and called them honey.

He chuckled. “Of course you do. Sherry, go tell Carson to prepare the iron.”

He turned back to the kid and gestured to the doors opposite. “Let's go kid.”

Once they were safely tucked inside Negan pushed the kid across the room. “Have a fucking seat.”

“Why?”

Negan felt his eyes squinting at the boy in a rather harsh manner. His patience was wearing thin. The kid was a bad ass, but he was a fucking punk all the same.

“Because,” he said through gritted teeth. “I'd like to get to know you better, Carl. Now sit the fuck down.”

“Are they all your wives?” Carl asked as he sat in the chair opposite of Negan.

“Yep. Always wanted to be able to fuck a bunch of women. So why stick to the old boring fucking rules?”

Carl's eye narrowed.

“What?”

“You should leave Nayna alone,” Carl said quietly.

A grin spread over his face again and he burst out laughing. “Why?”

“Because she doesn't want you to touch her.”

He snorted. “Carl you have a lot to learn about women. Anyway, what is she to you? She's too young to be your mother.”

“She's my....” But the boy seemed to be lost for words. 

Negan leaned forward, grinning. “A lesson for you. Free fucking advice if you will. There are some women out there who like 'bad men' but don't want to like them. So they pretend and tell themselves they're better than that and they hate that they want it. But want it they fucking do. And your Nayna. She's one of them. There are some women who admit freely they like bad men and then there are women who don't like bad men. 

“Nayna likes to think of herself as a good person. And she may very well be. I don't know her quite well enough to fucking say. But she's the type of lady who likes it rough, but doesn't want to like it rough because she thinks it's not normal.”

This shit was far too fucking deep for a 15 year old. It was all going way over his head.

“Enough about Nayna and sex. Now what am I going to fucking do with you?”


	13. The Things We Do

NAYNA

“Careful, you'll cut off the circulation to your knuckles if you keep gripping the wheel like that,” Daryl grumbled at her.

Nayna said nothing, only gripping the wheel tighter. There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and she tried her best not to vomit. Carl was missing. Gone, gone, gone her heart seemed to scream with each thump. She was on the verge of panicking tears, but she had to hold it together. She'd promised Lori to look after Carl and Judith and she failed. She should have kept a better eye on him. Oh, God, Carl was missing!

“Nayna....Nayna?”

“What?” She snapped, panting as her eyes worked back and forth as if she expected to find him hiding on the road.

“We're gonna find him.”

“Oh, I know,” she said stiffly, her knuckles cracking as she moved her fingers over the wheel.

Daryl grimaced as she slammed her foot on the gas pedal, sending him flying back into the seat. But he didn't say shit about her driving. Thank God for that.

She prayed Carl was with Negan and unharmed. Because she knew, that she was the only one who could get him back safely from Negan. If she had to suck his dick to get Carl back, she would. She'd do anything. 

“Nayna--”

“--what, Daryl? I brought you with me because not only are you the best tracker, but because you normally know when the fuck to shut up.”

“Jesus, no need to bite my dick off or anything,” Daryl said, pushing his foot against the glove compartment and resting his arm over his knee. 

Nayna's lips tightened as he smeared dirt all over the dashboard. She quickly cut her eyes to him, but he wasn't looking at her. She wanted to apologize to him and smooth things over. Nayna knew she'd been a royal bitch since the day before. But Carl was missing. And she was too hurt to apologize anyway. But Daryl took her mood swings with ease, just as Rick did. They both had an understanding with each other. They both handled her, like a cop negotiating with a terrorist, and she knew it, but there was nothing she could do. Nayna knew they didn't want to feed into her irritation anymore than necessary. And that irritated her even more. But she couldn't think of that now. The only thing on her mind was pushing back the panic so she could find Carl. The overwhelming anxiety made her lash out. She couldn't do any different. Lash out or fall apart were her only two options. She would wait until she got in the comfort and safety of her own room to fall apart.

The walkie laying on the console beeped and Rick's voice bleated through. “Anything? Over.”

Daryl picked up the walkie and sighed. “Nah, man. Nothing yet, we'll let you know. Over.”

“I want you two at the rendezvous point in an hour, over.”

Nayna held up two fingers, eyes glued to the road, and Daryl cleared his throat. “We'll meet you there in two. Over.”

The radio crackled and Rick sighed over the system. “Alright, two. But no more than that. Let me know if you find anything. Over.”

“Ten-four, over.”

Daryl tossed the walkie on the console beside them and went back to staring out the window, which was just as well. Nayna's stomach and mind were too unsettled for conversation. They'd already been driving for almost two hours. They'd be lucky to reach the rendezvous point in two hours if they turned back right that second. Whatever. Rick could figure it out himself. She didn't need a fucking chaperone.

Nayna took a deep breath in, concentrating on the road ahead. Her thoughts raced past her, zooming across her mind like the lines zoomed past them on the road. They were there and then gone in a flash. Each bringing along doubt, insecurity, helplessness and hope. 

They'd zoomed past the convenience store over fifteen minutes ago. Instinct told her to keep heading where the roads were clear. Eventually they'd meet with somebody. She hoped.

The roads were getting rougher the further they drove. She grunted and tapped the brakes as she tried to ease the car around the biggest fucking pothole she'd ever seen.

“Guess VDOT hasn't been out here in awhile,” she said, mostly to amuse herself. 

“V—what?”

“Virginia Department of Transportation....Sorry, just being a dick right now.”

“No shit,” Daryl said, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. She wrinkled her nose at him but said nothing as he rolled the window down and lit up. She reached over and wound down her window too, coughing at the smoke.

“Want one?”

“Maybe later. My nerves are already fucking shot.”

“Might make you feel better,” Daryl said and he took a long puff, letting the smoke waft around them.

Nayna coughed and waved her hand, dispersing the mist. “Eh, lung cancer sucked in the old world. I can't imagine it'd be any better now.”

“You act as if you're gonna live that long,” Daryl sniped.

“Yeah well, maybe you should too.”

Daryl just snorted and went back to smoking and looking.

Another five minutes of driving and Nayna squinted in the wavy sunlight. “Am I seeing a white truck or is that just my mind playing tricks on me?”

“Naw, I see it too,” Daryl said, sitting up and reaching for his sidearm.

She pulled off to the side of the road, listening to the gravel crunch under the tires. Her heart hammered even harder with hope and worry. She had to swallow several times to calm her nervous stomach as she leaped out of the car. There was no doubt it was Negan's truck. Nayna wasn't much on religion, but she prayed that Carl was on that truck and unharmed. The white truck stopped opposite them. Nayna yanked her Sig out of the holster and stood at the ready, her finger pointing forward, not on the trigger. Just as she was taught. If she shook, no one else could see it.

The doors opened and a few of Negan's men slipped out.

“Where's Negan?” She called and the men just looked at her.

An older gentleman strolled to the back of the truck, where she couldn't see him.

“Where's Carl?”

Daryl crunched his way over, holding up his Glock, breathing heavily. 

She heard the back door of the truck rolling up and a slight murmur of voices. And of course, Negan himself strolled out from the rear of the truck. Lucille thrown casually over his shoulder, as if he had not a care in the world. A flash of annoyance covered her anxiety and it took everything she had not to lash out. He raised his eyebrow questioningly at her gun and she lowered it with much trepidation.

“Daryl,” she said and he lowered his too, his breaths coming out in angry, frustrated snorts. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay back. I've got this.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said and he flicked his greasy hair from his face. Nayna squeezed his shoulder, her face softening slightly. He nodded, placated for the moment and she patted him.

Out of habit Nayna glanced both ways before she crossed the street. When she looked up Negan was laughing at her. She flushed and pressed her lips together in a thin line. Negan stood waiting for her with his hands on his hips. There was a look of malice mixed with lust in his hazel eyes. Nayna noticed they were nearly green in this light. Green and sexy. She pushed the thought out of her mind and shoved her Sig in its holster.

“Where's Carl?” She had meant to sound authoritative and commanding. Instead, she sounded tired and weak. She was trembling from the inside out. 

Negan grinned and tapped Lucille against his boot as he looked around. “Where's Rick the Prick?”

“He's off searching for his son,” she snapped. In the back of her mind she added, you idiot. She shifted impatiently from one leg to the other.

“Fucking funny that he's not here and yet you are. In the right fucking direction.”

Nayna rolled her eyes. “Look, Daryl and I were just following the path you fuckwads laid down. Figured you'd be at the end where the Walkers weren't.”

He tapped her aching, swimming head. “Smart, doll. Very fucking smart.”

“Where is Carl?” Goddammit, she wished he would just fucking answer.

“Look, I just want you guys to know that I'm fucking reasonable. You're cooperating,” another sinister grin spread over Negan's full, kissable lips. “Some of you more than others, doll.”

Asshole. She crossed her arms under her breasts and glared. His gazed flicked downwards and then back up to her reddening face. But her already hammering heart skipped a beat and she felt a shudder of desire running down her legs. Nayna shifted again and tightened her jaw.

Negan cleared his throat and motioned to one of his men. “Anyway.” 

She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Carl's shaggy hair coming from behind the damned truck and ran forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She laughed quietly. “You're so tall now. Taller than I am.”

She kissed his cheek and buried her fingers in his hair. So flooded with relief she was, she nearly toppled over to the ground with him. All the anxiety and the worry and the exhaustion washed over the sandy shores of her mind and she was visibly shaking. Carl patted her shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said darkly, not meeting her gaze.

“Carl?” She dropped her arms from around him, grasping his cheeks. She looked at him but he just moved past her towards Daryl. 

She watched him, stung, when Negan clamped his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. “Hey doll.”

Her stinging heart sank. “Yeah?”

“I think we need to have a nice fucking chat. What do you fucking think?”

“Um,” she glanced back over her shoulder at Daryl who was radioing Rick and at Carl who stared sullenly at the ground. She bit her lip but Negan grasped her chin and turned her head towards him.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth flush with hers and every achy muscle in her body tensed, screaming in near agony. She put her hands on his chest in a shaky show of self-defense, but she didn't have the energy to fight back.

“Not here,” she hissed. 

Negan snickered. “Not here then. Come on, dollface.”

He turned to an older, potbellied man and handed Lucille over. The man took the bat placidly and scuffed his way back to the cab of the truck. Negan slid and arm about her waist and he dragged her towards the back of the truck and climbed in. He bent over and put his hands on her waist and pulled her up after him. Her foot caught on the tailgate, but Negan had a firm grip on her and she leaned into the warm leather of his jacket. It reminded her of her family and watching her uncle on his Harley. She blinked and pulled herself back from the past.

“There. Now we're alone,” he grinned. “You're fucking shaking. Don't tell me you were that fucking worried about Carl?”

“What do you want, Negan?” She knew she sounded weak and tired. But she pushed off him and crossed her arms again all the same. He was trying to goad her into conversation about Rick by using Carl.

“A thank you would be nice. That little shit fucking gunned down five of my fucking men, at least.”

“Is that all?” Her voice was dry. “Well, thank you Negan and I'm sorry he caused you so much trouble. Maybe next time you should leave well enough alone.”

She stared to move past him, but he caught her bicep in his hand and she she looked at him a shadow fell over her face, sending chills into her heart. “That's it? Really, doll? That's fucking it? Bullshit. The little fucker stowed away in the fucking truck. And here I am, after he gunned down five of my fucking men, giving him back to you. I was actually fucking heading back to Alexandria. No fucking need to be so fucking hostile. You're fucking lucky I brought him the fuck back here without so much as one fucking hair on his little fucking delicate head harmed. So fuck you.”

Too tired to play his games, she snapped, “What do you want, Negan? To cop a feel? A blow job? Is that what you want in return for Carl?”

He smirked and traced a gloved finger down her face, making her shudder. “I wouldn't turn down either one of those, but only if you were offering them freely.”

“Funny how I didn't hear you saying that when you put your tongue in my mouth yesterday.”

“Because you wanted it, dollface.”

She raised her brow. “Are you sure about that?”

Of course she'd wanted it. She was fucking sex starved and needy. In a bad way. The trembling was beginning to subside, but her heart only beat faster at his nearness. At the odors of leather and musk that made up his smell. He was too close for comfort and she tried to step back, but he held her firmly in place. 

He laughed, a low, throaty laugh. “Considering the little noises you were making as my tongue was in your fucking mouth, I'd say I'm pretty fucking sure about that, doll.”

She flushed and Negan leaned in, knowing he had her. He drew her to his chest by curling his hands around her waist. His lips traced the curve of her ear, stopping to suckle her earlobe. Her hands came up to grasp his shoulders as she inhaled sharply. Negan chuckled as he trailed little suckling kisses down her jaw, up and across her chin, until he reached her lips. She curled her toes in her boots, rooted to the spot, almost eagerly awaiting his next move, knowing she shouldn't want it, but wanting it so bad it unearthed an ache in her heart.

His mouth found hers, lips nestling firmly against hers. William had never kissed her like this. Not in all their years of marriage. 

Nayna gained a new vigor from his mouth, sparks and flames giving her the energy to wrap her arms about his neck, bringing herself closer to him. She sweetly kissed him back, drawing strength from the pang of loneliness that echoed deep in her soul. It felt so wrong and so right at the same time. 

Negan explored her mouth, slowly, hotly, leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world. His hands roamed from her waist down to her hips and then along the curve of her backside, squeezing and kneading. All the while, he teased her lips apart. She felt helpless, only able to cling to him and kiss back. She was frozen in place by ambivalence. The urge to throw herself on him battled with the urge to punch him in the face. So she simply stood, stagnant and helpless, trapped in her own mind.

A sigh escaped her lips and Negan's tongue shot between them at first opportunity. Another whimpering, weak noise broke through and he chuckled into her mouth, while swirling his tongue around hers with expert skill. She dug her nails into his shoulders, pressing herself even closer to him, wanting to feel every inch of him against her. The little voice in her head that told her this was wrong and foolish was drowned out by three years of abstinence and loneliness. The last time she'd made love was when William was home on R&R. And it still hadn't made her feel like this.

And then he was backing her up, pressing her against the inside of the stupid truck, his knee between her legs, a hand cupping the back of her head, holding her mouth against his, and his other hand tugging on the zipper to her vest. 

The day was hot, but she shivered with pleasure as he curled his big, gloved hand over one of her breasts and squeezed. Nayna arched her back, filling his hand even more. She just wanted to be touched. She was hot and cold at the same time. 

Negan finally broke their kiss, and she noted that he was panting just as much as she was. Good. Asshole. He grinned at her and yanked his gloves off with his teeth, letting them fall in a heap on the floor. He pushed her vest open further and bent down, kissing her collarbones all the way down to the tops of her breasts.

“You sure you don't fucking want this?” His voice took on the familiar husky tone he used when he was turned on. “Your fucking heart is fucking pounding.”

“Fuck you,” she panted and he laughed against her skin, as he ran his fingers up her sides. She squirmed under his touch and sighed when he grasped her neck between his hands, ever so tenderly. His fingers skimmed down the sides of her neck and across her shoulders. He pushed again at her vest and she shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor on top of his gloves. Nayna was left standing in her leggings and a purple spaghetti strap tank top. 

Though he was stooped awkwardly, he lay his head on her chest anyway, over her traitorous heart. His head rose and fell with her every breath and his thumbs stroked her throat. She could feel the awkward rasp of his stubbled cheek scratching her soft, sensitive skin in the most erotic way. And then he was nuzzling his way down, burying his face in her cleavage. And his fingers were on the straps of her top, pushing them down. And she was on fire below.

She bit her lip as he tugged her top down, exposing her less than pretty bra. Tattered, at least one size too small, dirty and stained, it was the ugliest one she had. And yet, the most comfortable. 

He snorted at the sight. “Utilitarian.”

“Yeah, well, I don't have much chance to go waving my tits at people,” she blurted out without thinking. Something she would have said jokingly to Rick or Daryl, but fucking not to Negan. 

“Mmmm, I'll have to fix this fucking mess, doll,” he laughed and nipped at the skin on the top of her breasts. She shuddered.

“What are you doing?” She gasped as his fingers deftly reached behind her and undid the fastenings.

“Shhhh,” he whispered. “You're breaking the fucking spell, doll.”

“I--” she started to say but was cut off when his mouth attacked hers. He slid the straps down her shoulders and then the bra dropped and fell on top of her vest. Her tank top was around her waist and she was fully exposed from the waist up. And now that she was half naked, she found she didn't mind as much as she should have, which bothered her immensely. She opened her mouth again, allowing his tongue to roam for a bit.

Nayna moaned as Negan pulled back, resting his hands on either side of her while he looked at her like a hungry cat. He stared at her bare breasts for a good minute, licking his lips. She watched his chest heave up and down before he looked back up into her face. She couldn't move, pinned between his arms and his leg.

He unzipped his customary leather jacket and shrugged out of it, leaving him in a white T-shirt that molded nicely to his body. She took in the sight and bit her lips to keep from sighing aloud. Not only did it cling to his nicely toned abs, but also to his very fucking huge bicep muscles. And she'd always been a sucker for a gym-dick in tight shirts. Probably half the reason why she married William. 

“Fuck. You've got a nice fucking set of tits, doll. Anyone ever told you that?”

“No.”

“Didn't show many fucking people?” He laughed and she closed her eyes as he palmed them in his hands.

But his hands felt so good, and her back arched involuntarily again. He chuckled and squeezed and tugged and massaged them until she too was panting with desire. When she opened her eyes, she found him looking at her face, that same fucking shit eating grin that he always wore.

“What?” she snapped.

“You look fucking sexy as hell right now, doll.”

“Fuck you, Joe,” she said putting her hands on his chest, trying and failing to push him away. She noticed that his heart was thumping just as hard as hers and when she looked in his eyes, all she saw was pure lust and desire. 

He leaned in, trapping her hands between them and he pressed his hot mouth to hers, whispering, “I'd fucking love that, Meghan.”

And then he pressed his body fully against hers and she felt all of him. A wave of mixed embarrassment and shyness overcame her and she shrank back into the wall. But he went with her and bucked his hips against her belly, pushing his erection harder against her.

Negan kissed his way to her ear. His voice came out as a raspy whisper. “Don't you fucking feel that? I fucking want to slide into your pussy. I bet you're so fucking tight that I won't even fucking fit. Doesn't that fucking sound amazing, doll?”

“N-n-no,” she whimpered, only making him shake his head. Oh she fucking wanted it. And badly. 

“You'll see.”

He pulled away from her with a soft groan and he buried his face between her breasts. Then he sighed and kissed his way back up to her lips. But it was more of a quick peck than a real, toe-curling kiss. And he bent over to pick up their assorted clothes. 

“Get dressed, doll. I'll be waiting for you outside.”

She stood there, her bra and vest dangling uselessly from one hand, staring at him incredulously as he performed what her husband had always called the man tuck and then she watched him shove his hands into his gloves. He turned to look at her and grinned when he found her still topless. His eyes flicked down and then back up again. And then he left her there, panting and wet and hot for his touch. And highly disappointed.

She dressed herself with trembling hands, barely able to yank the zipper of the vest up. Nayna ran her fingers through her messy braided hair, trying to gain some semblance of order. She licked her lips and breathed out heavily. There was no way she could let Carl or Daryl see her in a state. And she was just as anxious as she was before. Ugh.

After a few more minutes of primping and chugging water from her belt, she hopped down from the back of the truck and organized her face into a cool, vacant expression. Hoping that she looked neither here nor there. 

Carl and Daryl were leaning against the car, waiting patiently for her. Both stood with similar expressions on their face of irritation and disgust. Nayna felt a pang in her heart and she looked away guiltily. 

She turned back to Negan who was busy twirling Lucille in the air. “Thank you.”

He laughed wickedly and bent down until his lips were brushing her ear. “Go home and touch yourself, doll. Think about me when you do.”


	14. The Mistakes We Make

CARL

Negan straightened himself up from whispering in her ear and he said something that made Nayna shrug. Next to Carl, Daryl's grasp tightened on his gun as his eyes narrowed. Carl kept watching them defiantly and his eye narrowed when Negan waved at him.

Nayna said something else and Negan's attention turned back to her and he laughed a great belly laugh. Carl and Daryl watched as he bent down and kissed Nayna goodbye. One of her hands splayed on the leather jacket and the other was fisted behind her. Even from across the road, Carl saw her knuckles were white. Beside him, Daryl winced at the sight of her hand. 

When she walked back to them, there was something hard in her eyes that Carl couldn't discern. She blinked several times and then gazed up into Carl's face with a small smile on her lips. 

“Hey, love, are you alright?” Nayna cupped the back of his neck, her eyes searching his face. Carl shrugged her off and slid into the front seat of the car. He pushed his sweaty hair from his face and put a hand over his eye. Negan had made him unwrap it and then practically laughed at him over it. He hadn't lied when he said he would put a bullet in that assholes brain. For what he was doing to Nayna and his father. For what he did to him.

But Negan's words about Nayna wouldn't leave his head. And Carl was confused. Nayna loved his father. Didn't she? If she did, why would she want Negan touching her. But did she want him? Carl rubbed a hand over his dirt streaked face. He didn't know anymore. 

She kissed Negan and didn't push him away. She let him touch her. And as of late she didn't spend as much time with his father as she used to. Of course she still took care of Judith and helped him, but it all felt different. Wrong, even.

Daryl climbed into the backseat and buzzed the radio. “Rick, we're leavin' now. ETA for two and a half hours, kay? Over.”

“Yes. Thank you....I...thank you. Over.”

“Yeah, you owe me a dollar,” Daryl groused. “Over.”

He tossed the radio on the console and reclined with his arms under his head. “I'm gonna nap.”

Nayna grunted as she lowered herself into the Cobalt. “You do that, then.”

Carl noticed her appearance was disheveled. Her hair was half coming out of it's braid, her clothes weren't straight and her face was flushed. It was hot, but not that hot. A new feeling of outrage and hurt rose in him. 

But before he could say anything to Nayna, Daryl interrupted him, slapping his arm. “Gimme your hat, Carl.”

He handed the hat to Daryl who put it over his face, blocking out the sun. Nayna rolled her eyes and then glanced at Carl with a knowing smile. He didn't smile back and he was pleased to see hers fade as well. 

“Ready to get this road on the show?” She revved the engine and Negan and his men beeped at them. Her lips tightened over her teeth and she waved half-heartedly back.

Carl's thoughts flashed back to what Negan said about her wanting him and he felt angry. His fingers curled into automatic fists and he had to actively work them out again.

Nayna glanced over her shoulder and made a sharp U-turn, sending Carl leaning into her. He pushed off her roughly and her brow furrowed, but she didn't acknowledge it aside from her lips pursing.

In the backseat, Daryl began to snore as the car rocked him to sleep. Nayna snorted and wore a half smile on her face as she offered Carl her water. He unscrewed the cap and drank the rest of the bottle in big gulps.

“They didn't feed or water you?”

Carl rolled his eyes at the old joke. “I'm not a plant.”

He put the empty bottle back in the cup holder and folded his hands in his lap.

“You're growing like one,” Nayna said, pressing on the gas pedal. Carl ignored her, gazing out the window.

The world was empty, forlorn, wilting from the heat and lack of rain. He didn't even see any Walkers. 

They passed a convenience store and drove into a wooded, winding road, surrounded by nothing more than the trees. This part of Virginia was very country. Very backwoods. Not at all the bustling main center Nayna had boasted about. It didn't occur to him that Nayna was from an entirely different part of the DC area, and not Virginia at all.

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and Carl turned away from her, watching the tall pines zoom by. There hadn't been a lot of rain lately, so even the pine trees drooped in the summer heat. Or was it even summer yet? The heat and humidity told him yes, but the calendar spoke a different story.

Nayna was the first to speak. “Negan says you gunned down five of his men.”

“Yes.”

Nayna nodded. “How did that make you feel?”

He looked over at her and watched her wipe sweat from her forehead. She kept staring ahead, not catching his stare.

Carl felt angry. Angry at her asking, angry at Negan, angry at his father, angry at her. “Why?”

“I'm just worried about you, love,” her voice was gentle, but he heard the steely warning behind it. She was worried about him being a future serial killer. Just as Negan said. It hurt to think she was wondering the same thing, though Carl didn't know why it should hurt him. 

Instead he snapped at her. “Well, I can handle myself, obviously, so you don't have to worry about me.”

“I worry anyway,” she shrugged, eyes glued to the road. “It's just a thing. I worry about everyone. You. Glenn. Maggie. Daryl. Morgan. Carol...Your father. Everyone back home.”

“Negan?” Carl's voice came out more sarcastic than he meant it, but he let it stand, satisfied with the flush that bloomed on her face.

“No,” and her voice was soft. “I definitely don't worry about him.”

Carl snorted and rested his elbow on the door and his head on his fist, staring straight ahead. He didn't need a lecture from her. Didn't want one.

They drove in silence for twenty minutes before Nayna tried another tactic. “You know, when we get back to Alexandria, I think you should start learning how to drive. We won't have cars for much longer, but, just in case, I think it's a good idea to have you learn and I've been told I'm a good teacher.”

“I don't need you to teach me. My father can do that. If I wanted bow lessons, I'd ask you,” Carl said sullenly. 

There was a flash of hurt that registered on her face and for a moment Carl felt guilty. But then he thought back to Negan and her kissing him and the anger in his heart flared again.

“You're right, of course your dad will teach you,” she said in a soothing tone. But he saw her jaw clench and her chest heave slightly. He couldn't help but feel victorious. 

Daryl snorted and shifted in the backseat. Carl wiped sweat from his upper lip and pushed his damp hair away from his face. Even though the winds were rolled down and there was cooler air blowing on them, it didn't stop the humidity.

He was glad to be going home. After Negan burned that dude with the iron, Carl was seriously afraid. He thought Negan might do the same to him or even worse. A nagging worry chewed on his mind. If only his dad wouldn't be angry. He knew he'd done something stupid.

Carl cleared his throat. “Was---Is my dad angry at me?”

Nayna shook her head, still looking at the road. “No, not at all. He's been worried sick about you, love. It nearly broke his heart when we couldn't find you. He's just happy you're safe. I bet he won't be a bit angry. And if he is, I'll talk to him. I promise,” she said, reaching over to squeeze his arm. He stiffened and it took all he had not to jerk out of her grasp. But she felt him tense up and she dropped her arm.

“I almost ruined everything.”

“No, love. You didn't. And you're safe now. That's all that matters. Your dad was really scared though.”

Carl said nothing and Nayna continued on.

“Carl, look, I know you were trying to help. I know Negan made you mad, but what you did was dangerous and you have no idea how scary....” Nayna said, re-adjusting her hands on the wheel.

“Stop, okay? Stop with the lectures. You're not my mother, dammit,” Carl snapped throwing his hands in the air.

“Carl,” there was a note of warning in her voice now. She still didn't look at him. “I'm the closest thing you have to a mom right now and I say this--”

“--no the closest thing I have to a mom is Michonne.” The hurt on her face was evident. Even moreso than before and Carl realized he'd struck exactly the nerve he needed to hurt her the most. It pushed him forward, pushed him into snapping.

“Carl....”

He was panting, full of rage and he couldn't stop the outpouring of words. “Stop pretending things are different when they're not. You're not my mother, you're not my father's girlfriend. You'll never be my fathers girlfriend. He doesn't love you. He doesn't want you. Stop being so desperate for his love that you try to be my mother. You're not. So just fucking stop. Or maybe you'd see all this if you removed your tongue from Negan's mouth.”

Nayna inhaled sharply and her face paled. And it suddenly occurred to Carl that his father was the one to offer her up. He watched in horror as her chest began a rapid rise and fall as she sucked in little breaths.

“Carl!” Daryl's voice came from the backseat. “Look, man--”

“--oh just stop. Save it. I don't fucking care.” But he did and he longed to say sorry. But he didn't know how.

Daryl sat up, cracking his knuckles. “You realize--”

“--don't,” Nayna cut him off, her voice sounding raspy and worn. “Just don't.”

She eased the car into a stop. Carl looked over at her trying to feel triumphant, but the raw emotion on her face sent another pang of regret into his heart. Her tongue snaked out, pressing on her upper lip which then disappeared as she bit down. Her hands fell slack from the steering wheel and she stared down at them.

“Nayna...” Daryl reached forward and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

She squeezed her eyes and her fists shut. Then she nodded to herself and pressed the button to pop the trunk.

“I'm sorry,” Carl said, his voice barely above a whisper. She paused with her back to him and he heard her swallow.

“I know,” she said so softly that he almost didn't catch it. And she shrugged off Daryl's hand and pushed herself up and out of the car.

She loved his father still. There was no doubt about it. And Carl had used her own love against her. Tears welled up in his good eye.

“Don't you dare,” Daryl growled. “Don't, Carl. Don't you think you've hurt her enough?”

They watched Nayna walk steadily to the trunk. Carl leaned his head out and saw she was getting her bow and the satchel she carried everywhere. She strung them both over her shoulder and adjusted the quiver of arrows on her belt. Nayna scuffed her way back to the drivers seat, going through her bag methodically.

“What're you doin?” Daryl asked.

She didn't look up from checking her gun. “Drive him home, Daryl. I'll walk.”

“Nayna, it'll take you all night.”

“That's fine. I need...Just drive him home, please?” Her voice broke and she turned away from them.

Daryl climbed into the front seat and he looked at Carl, shaking his head. He grabbed the walkie and passed it out the window to Nayna. “Take it. Seriously. Take it and if we don't hear from you, we're comin after you.”

She just stood there, her shoulders hunched. Daryl poked her back with it and she reached behind her. Carl's heart hurt when he saw her hand trembling as Daryl thrust the walkie into it.

“Two hours, Nayna. Every two hours, or I'm goin to tell Rick you wandered off. Got it?”

Her head bobbed up and down as she clutched the walkie to her chest. Carl looked down in his lap. 

He hadn't expected that in hurting Nayna, he'd hurt himself too. It was only then he realized that she was right. She was the closest thing he and Judith had to a mother. He thought about all the times she'd walked the prison floors at night with a crying Judith. Or how she always picked up comics or a knick knack she thought he'd like when she went out on runs. He remembered movie nights, once a month on Friday nights, and watching some awful movies and falling over in laughter with her. It had been her, along with Shane, who had taught him how to shoot with a gun. 

When Daryl drove off he turned to see Nayna standing in the middle of the road, her hair in her face, looking utterly forlorn and dejected. As she turned away, the sun glistened on her cheek for a moment and then she was gone, disappearing behind the bend in the road.


	15. The Suffering We Endure

NAYNA

She didn't know how long she sat on the log, letting the tears pool on the ground between her feet.

Oh God, Carl was right. Rick had never wanted her. He never saw her as more than a friend. There had been plenty of opportunity between them on runs, at the prison or even at Alexandria. He just didn't think of her that way and he never would. The thought was like a knife in the gut and she gasped, leaning forward as if she'd been punched.

The only person who wanted her was a baseball bat wielding sociopath who enjoyed pool and big tits. And she wasn't sure if he wanted her or just wanted to fuck with Rick.

What made her so unlovable? She tried so hard to be kind and work hard and be a leader and yet she had no friends. If she hadn't been through so much crap with Glenn, Maggie, Carol, Michonne, Sasha, Abraham, Rosita, Eugene or Daryl, she was sure Rick would be the only friend she had. For a while Shane and Glenn had been her only friends. 

Nayna pulled her legs on the log and wrapped her arms around her knees. She rested her cheek on them and shivered. She was alone. Just as she always had been. Just as she always would be.

If she headed south, she could reach Quantico in two days, maybe three. And then she could go back to her apartment and see if William had ever made it back. Or she could go even further south to Norfolk and see if he was in their rented house there. Or if she went north she could hit Kensington in a few days. See if her mother or any other family made it out. But Nayna wasn't sure she wanted to know. Didn't know if she could bear the thought of seeing her mother as a Walker. Better to leave some stones untouched.

But if she left, everyone would be at the mercy of Negan. And she couldn't just walk away from that. And mostly she couldn't just walk away from Rick. He cut his teeth on her heart. 

It took her another hour to cry herself out. When she was finished, she grabbed a bottle of water and some dried venison, eating and drinking without thinking. Nayna took a deep breath in and steeled herself for the long walk home.

After two hours of walking her feet began to ache. The steel-toed boots were three sizes too big on hers—having been her husbands, and she wasn't used to wearing them for prolonged periods anymore. She preferred the hunting boots Daryl had found for her a few months back. At least when she was making runs and stuff. The combat boots were for fighting, obviously, and meeting with Negan.

But it wasn't the first time her feet ever hurt her and she kept pushing through, trying to focus neither on the pain nor on her thoughts. She tried to play the little mind games she knew, but it didn't work with one person. 

Nayna was regretting the walk. But she couldn't have stayed in the car with Carl for another minute. She couldn't blame him at all. She'd been Carl's age when her own father died and she knew some of the heartbreak there. She also knew Carl was hurting because he knew he'd fucked up. And he was picking up on her bad behavior of lashing out when upset. The thought made her wince as she realized she really was a mother figure to him, if he was modeling her behaviors, good or bad. 

Maybe she was out of line with the mother comment. But her feelings towards Carl and Judith were maternal. Sometimes she pretended Judith and Carl were hers. Hers and Ricks. But common sense often kicked in before those fantasies took over too much of her brain. She wanted to be their mother, but Carl was right. She never would be and she had to face it. She had to be okay with it.

She had to separate herself from Rick. It was the only way. It was time for her to move out and move on. Even Carol had moved in with Tobin. She had stayed because of her love for Rick. But now it was time to go.

No wonder it was so obvious. Even Daryl hadn't seemed shocked when Carl had thrown it in her face. She practically tripped over herself to help Rick. She mooned like a lovesick child and she felt horrified at her behavior. But all those touches and caresses....Rick never touched Carol or Maggie like that. Hell he never touched Michonne like that until after they'd gotten together. Nayna truly couldn't remember a time when Rick wasn't touchy feely with her. But he must...It didn't matter. Rick was with Michonne and he was happy. That's all that mattered. Though jealousy rose in her heart, she bore no ill will towards Michonne. Too much had passed between them. Between all of them for her to hold a grudge against her.

No wonder everyone tried to push her towards Daryl. She stopped and took a long drag out of her water bottle. Her feet pounded with her heart and she sighed. She wasn't even half way home yet. She'd be lucky to make it home by midnight. But she carried on, as ever.

 

It was dark by the time she reached Alexandria and she stopped outside of the house. Through the window she could see Rick, Carl, Michonne and baby Judith sitting around the table, talking and laughing. Her heart twisted at the sight, from love, from pain, from everything in between. She didn't begrudge Michonne. For she loved Rick and she couldn't fathom anyone not loving him. It was only natural that she should love Rick as much as Nayna did.

They looked like a real family. And Nayna couldn't just barge in on that. They would insist she come in and that she too was family, but she would be the excessive fifth wheel as always. She watched Rick's face light up at something Michonne was whispering in his ear and she drank in his expression. He didn't have much cause to laugh as of late and even as it hurt her, it warmed her heart to see him happy.

She felt a twinge of pain in her heart. Over the past year she'd isolated herself, and now that Negan was sniffing around her, she'd isolated herself even more. Now she didn't know where to go. Disturbing Rick and his family didn't seem right. But everyone else had a family. Even Daryl had dinner with Aaron and Eric most nights. Maggie and Glenn had each other and Enid. Carol had Tobin. Most of the Alexandrians hated her. 

She almost wished she had Negan to snipe with. And she shook her head. Fucking crazy thought. She didn't fucking want Negan. She would almost rather be alone. Almost.

Nayna turned and scuffed up the dark, dead street. She put her hands in her vest pockets, looking down at her shoes. 

“Nayna...”

She turned to see Morgan standing on the porch of his house. She raised her brows at him. Before Negan had come, they'd exchanged heated words and had avoided each other. 

It wasn't that she didn't like Morgan. She cared about him immensely. But his no killing policy angered the fuck out of her. It was arrogant and reckless and just plain stupid. And she'd told him so. 

“Are you hungry? Come have some supper.”

She glanced back at the direction of Rick's house. There was no way Morgan didn't know she was avoiding Rick. 

“Okay,” she said and climbed the stairs.

Morgan held the door open for her and she stepped inside, hovering awkwardly around the entrance. He closed the door behind him and gestured to the table. She unstrapped her bow and lifted her satchel off her shoulder, leaning them both against the wall. Her gun stayed at her side, as always. 

She'd never been in Morgan's house before. It was as neat and tidy as she expected. There was hardly anything that signified it as Morgan's house. No personal items. No little homey touches. Just the pre-end of the world furniture and bland décor. 

Morgan pulled out a chair for her and she sat down, a little flustered. She wasn't used to manners anymore. He sat across from her and folded his napkin in his lap. She quickly followed suit. Fuck, in the Old World, she'd been so polite and nice and sweet and fuck.

She winced as she noted the dirt stains on the cream colored napkin. Ugh, she wasn't fit for fine dining, or even regular dining. Poor Morgan. She was in desperate need of a shower.

He folded his hands and bowed his head to pray. “Dear Lord Father, thank you for this bountiful blessing. Thank you for the health of my family. We continue to be grateful for each day you give us. Amen.”

Nayna's voice was barely above a whisper as she said, “Amen.”

Prayer had always made her uncomfortable. Her idea of a prayer was essentially: good bread, good meat, good god, let's eat. 

Morgan offered her beans and she held out her plate. He spooned them onto her plate and then on to his, followed by some very runny mashed potatoes and finally with fried spam. She tried not to make a face at the spam, but it was hard. And who the fuck knew how long expired that shit was. Best to stick to the potatoes and beans.

After some time of silence Morgan cleared his throat. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for what I said to you.”

Nayna shrugged. “No matter, Morgan. I'm sorry I don't...respect your beliefs. I know it's not much in the way of an apology, but I understand that you are entitled to feel the way you do. And you were right about the Saviors. I think....”

She sighed but didn't go on. He blinked at her and nodded.

“Can I ask you a question though?”

“Of course you can, Morgan.”

She was tired and she longed for the evening to be over. But she wanted to at least give Morgan the chance to clear the air.

“Do you find some life to be more precious than others?”

She did not hesitate. “Yes.”

“Really? Why?”

She lowered her fork to her plate and placed her elbow on the table, completely forgetting her manners. “Some people deserve to die. Some people have to die for others to live. C'est la vie.”

“Who gets to determine that?”

“The one making the decision. You are right in one thing. It is highly subjective. Whose life I may find precious....Rick might not agree.”

Morgan nodded. “But why do you get to decide?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“You know I was a Federal Agent, right?”

Morgan furrowed his brow. “No, I didn't.”

She shrugged again. “Before the beginning of the end, I had been assigned to the cold case department. That first case will always be forever in my mind. Little girl, playing outside with her dolls, causing no trouble. Just innocent playing. She looks up and sees her brother getting out of a car and she's shrieking. Why? Because he just came back from a deployment. Operation Desert Storm. She drops her dolls all over the lawn and runs to him screaming. He picks her up, twirls her in the air and puts her down. The father comes out, yelling about the noise because he was trying to sleep. The stepson apologizes and the three of them head inside. The Marine goes upstairs to shower, grateful to finally be home again. While he's gone, the father proceeds to punish the little girl. I...I can't get into details because...Morgan I've seen some horrifying shit. Nothing will ever compare to the crime scene photos or the description or what we think happened. In the end all three of them were dead on the floor. Not one person knew what happened that day. No leads. Nothing. Until one day we get a tip. Turns out the mother killed all three of them. Tortured them. It was....

“No matter what Rick says, Morgan, sometimes you just can't come back. Not after something like that. Some people don't get better. Some people think they're right. What makes the mother's life more precious? Than her stepson's? Regardless of whether or not you want to face it, there is a scale out there. And sometimes, no matter what you have to make those decisions. It doesn't mean you take it lightly. It doesn't mean you have to like it. I have killed for my family here. I would do it again without hesitation because that's what I have to do. Because in that moment in time, the life of my family, including you, is far more precious than the life of the person shooting at me. And before you ask, no it doesn't bother me. I don't lose sleep at night. I sleep soundly knowing my family is unharmed. Could you live with yourself if something happened to one of us because you refused to kill? Could you sleep at night?”

Morgan considered her quietly and said softly. “I don't know. I don't know anymore, Nayna.”

She reached over and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “No one knows, Morgan. You're not alone.”

His eyes searched her face and he reached out to touch her cheek. “Neither are you, Nayna.”

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, neither one looking too much at the other. When they were finished she offered to wash the dishes but he waved her off.

“Don't worry about it. Thanks for the company.”

Nayna smiled. “Thank you, Morgan.”

“Go home. Get some rest.”

She strapped her bow to her back and picked up her satchel. “You do the same.”

With that she left Morgan's house and made her way to the empty brownstone that Negan and his men had used the day before while waiting for Rick. Had it really only been the day before? It felt like weeks, months ago. She climbed the stairs and poured herself onto the couch, not even bothering to remove her boots. She wiggled out of her belt and tossed it along with her bow on the coffee table. Best just to sleep it all away.

But she didn't sleep well. Her dreams were hot and wet and highly uncomfortable, with Negan being the star feature. 

In the morning she sat up, sighing, wrapping her arms around her waist. In all honesty, she wished Negan had touched her more because now she craved for his touch. For his closeness, for the intimacy. She allowed herself a few moments to simply imagine herself wrapped in his arms, in the arms of someone who wanted her. She imagined coming home to him after a long day of work in Alexandria and just laying her head on his big shoulder and letting him stroke the worry away from her. But reality crashed down on her, like a wave slamming on the shore. Negan wasn't that kind of man and she didn't know if she was that girl anymore.

She hauled herself up to the shower and sighed. Time to get ready for the day and to face Carl.....And Rick. Nayna dreaded it already.

Over the next week she helped Maggie with the garden and Olivia with inventory. She met with Rick and Glenn and they worked out a plan to get some of the cattle from Hilltop to Alexandria. And little by little she moved her things to the brownstone. But she was avoiding Rick like crazy and he was starting to notice. 

She just couldn't face him, knowing that he knew. The meeting with him and Glenn had been agony for her. Nayna had fled immediately after, while both Glenn and Rick called after her. But she couldn't go back.

One morning Rick followed her to the graveyard and blocked her path.

“What's going on, Nayna?” His voice was soft and somber.

She couldn't meet his eyes. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

He sighed. “No games. You're avoiding me. You won't talk to Carl. He's been upset since the day he came back. What happened?”

So he hadn't told Rick. Relief flooded her. Maybe she could stop avoiding him.

“Nothing, Rick. I just chewed him out and now I feel like an ass, so I'm giving him space.”

Rick frowned. “That doesn't explain why you've been neglecting me.”

There was a teasing note to his voice, but she looked to the ground in shame, her cheeks blooming. He tilted her face back up to look at him and she averted her eyes.

“Nayna?”

She sighed. “It's nothing Rick. Just...I've got stuff....things....I need to do. Please let me go.”

When she looked back up at him, there was an unmistakable sadness in his blue eyes. “I will if you tell me why you're moving out.”

“I...It's time for me to get my own space, especially if we're staying here. You and Michonne don't need another mouth to feed and you guys can have your family time,” she said lamely.

Rick's brow furrowed. “You're my family too.”

“It's not the same Rick and you know it,” she whispered, wincing as her voice broke several times.

He sprung forward, yanking her into his arms, pressing his face into her hair. “What did he do to you?”

She put her hands on his shoulders, trying to push him away. Her heart soared at being in his warm and comforting arms, but her mind hurt, knowing it wasn't because he was in love with her. 

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Stop isolating yourself. Can't you see I need you?”

Once, those were the very words she longed to hear from him. Now? It broke her heart. 

“I'm fine Rick. I'll be right here the whole time, see? Just down the road.”

“I'll kill him if he's hurt you....”

“He's good to me, Rick.” Again she winced. Wrong thing to say.

He pulled back, hands secured on her waist as he gazed in her eyes. “What are you talking about? Good to you? He's a fucking--”

She put her hands on his lips. “Look. He returned Carl to me in exchange...for nothing more than a conversation between us.” Yeah some conversation. Her cheeks went red again and Rick read their meaning. His hands tightened, but she rubbed her fingertips over the stubble on his face, trying to soothe him.

“He's reasonable. We can work with him. Rick...I know...” She closed her eyes, inhaling Rick's scent. She couldn't identify it as anything other than Rick's smell. But she'd know it anywhere. “I know I sound crazy right now, but trust me, please?”

“I trust you with my life. With the lives of my children. But I don't trust him and I don't like what he's doing to you. Nayna, have you been writing?”

She shook her head. “Not recently. But I'll start up again if only you ask.”

“Please. I want you to...The more time you spend with him, the worse you're going to be.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Oh boy did she know. She felt the effects the other day when she dreamed about laying in his arms. A crazy, stupid dream.

She glanced up again, gazing into Rick's eyes. And she realized how close their faces were. Oh god she just wanted to kiss him. When she was with Negan she wanted his mouth on hers for a more primal reason. With Rick she wanted his mouth on hers to quench the thirst in her soul.

His eyes flickered and his brow twitched. Her heart skipped a beat and then her mind, her ever practical, traitorous mind took over and she pushed him away, stepping out of his grip. “Stop worrying about me, I promise I will be just fine.”

“I worry....It's just what I do...”

Nayna half smiled at him. It was the same thing she'd said to Carl the previous week. 

“Let me do the worrying about me, Rick. You've got enough on your plate,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.

 

Spencer caught her on the way back to her house.

“Hey, Nayna, I could use your help with something. I've asked around and everyone else is busy,” Spencer said. 

She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Sure, what is it?”

“I was hoping you could help me map out some locations near the Potomac. I had an idea that maybe we could fish for some of our food and the Potomac isn't too far. A few hours walk. We could be back by this evening...”

She was impressed. Fishing. For the first time in a week she truly smiled. “That sounds like a great idea Spencer. Only let's take our time and we can get a better map. Did you ask Eugene?”

“He's on guard duty.”

Nayna nodded. “Okay, that's fine. You sure you don't want a car?”

Spencer shook his scruffy head. “No, should be okay, not many Walkers around, since the Saviors, you know....”

“Okay. Well, let's get over to the armory and then we can get going.”

 

It took them three hours to get to the river site. She set her bow and arrows along with her satchel down. 

“We should make camp here and then we can head back in the morning. I should be able to draw a rough map.”

And so they set up their camp a few hundred yards away from the edge of the Potomac. Far enough away from the river bed that their shit wouldn't get washed away, but close enough to give them an advantage if anyone tried to sneak up on them. 

Nayna dropped her belt without thinking and grasped a piece of paper and the charcoal, walking along the edge of the river, drinking in every detail. This was perfect. And fresh fish! She'd never been fishing before but she'd learn. 

So many plans and thoughts flashed through her head and she began to feel like a little kid on Christmas morning. They could trade fish for livestock and get her other plans in motion! 

She bent down to tie the lace on her hunting boot when Spencer grabbed a handful of her hair.

“What the fuck? What the fuck are you doing?” She cried out as he jerked her head back. 

In his other hand he held a long hunting knife and her heart stopped. Her eyes flicked back to the camp. All her weapons were back there. She had been stupid, stupid walking even to the river without them. But then again she trusted Spencer. She fucking trusted his drunken ass. Because Rick trusted him. Because Rosita trusted him. Because she'd let her guard down around him. 

All her plans faded from her mind as blind fear replaced them.

She couldn't lie, she'd never really liked Spencer. But she'd never really liked many of the Alexandria residents. And not by their own fault. She hated them because of circumstance. Because of their soft, pampered life—while she had to watch Carl's eyes harden. And Spencer was the worst of them because he'd been out there, but he was a coward. 

She did the only thing she could think of—she jammed her elbow into Spencer's crotch. The knife dropped with a clatter on the rocks and Nayna scrambled for it, missed and knocked it into the river. All the while Spencer was gasping and crying in a puddle on the ground.

She tried to jump around him, back towards the camp, but he lunged for her and caught her by the ankle. Nayna fell to the ground with a thump and all the wind was knocked from her lungs. 

Spencer grabbed her again by the hair. “This is for my father. For my mother. You fucking assholes ruined everything. And now you're consorting with the enemy. You need to die. And then, I'm going to fucking have Negan kill Rick. And then I'm going to be in charge of Alexandria.”

Her blood went cold at that thought. Would Negan actually kill Rick? Somehow she highly doubted it, but she couldn't be sure. Nayna clawed at him, but she couldn't catch her breath. He threw her over his shoulder like a ragdoll and he started walking to the Potomac.

She squirmed and kicked and fought with everything she had. No, no, no, not the river. 

When she was eight she'd gone to the beach with her mother, her father and a few family friends. She remembered little from that day aside from going down in the ocean and scrabbling at the sand, desperate to go up, up. But, she was going down, down, down, being pulled away by the current. The panic was as crystal clear to her as if she was still there. There had been no rational thought, nothing but pure instinct. 

She almost drowned that day. Nayna would have if her father's friend hadn't been there. He'd yanked her out of the water and pounded on her back. She'd thrown up all over him. 

Ever since she hated water on her face. She disliked showers immensely for that reason, always fighting panic when she washed her hair, holding her breath whenever water touched her face in anyway. And now Spencer was going to drown her. Fucking asshole.

He tossed her on the rocks, belly first, knee to her back, while she pawed at the riverbed, looking for a rock, the knife, anything to give her leverage. And then he was dunking her face in the water, fighting against her jerking body. 

Some how her elbow made contact with the knee not pressed into her back and he went down. Nayna coughed and spluttered as she rolled off the boulder. She struggled for her footing, searching frantically for something, anything to grab. Nayna found a jagged rock, a little bit bigger than her hand and she picked it up, stumbling towards Spencer who was on his feet again. He swung his fist at her and she just barely dodged it. He careened forward and Nayna twisted shoving her foot on his ass and sending him flying to the ground. His head slammed sickeningly on a large rock and Nayna brought down the stone in her hands, bashing it into the side of his skull. Her stomach lurched as he began to bleed. But he was still awake. 

He rolled out of the way as Nayna brought the rock down again and his jammed his fist to her gut. A groan escaped her lips and she fell to the side, momentarily stunned. He kicked her in the same spot, again and again and again. If she made it through this, her ribs would be bruised at least, if not broken. It already hurt to breathe.

And then Spencer was dragging her up by her hair again. But Nayna still had fight left in her. She looked him straight in the eye and said, “Your parents would be fucking ashamed of you right now. They were good people. You and your brother. You're fucking scum. If anyone should die, it's you, asshole.”

And then she spit in his face. 

“You fucking cunt!” He snarled and her hair slipped from his grip.

She was able to scuttle across the grass, but she didn't make it very far due to the intense pain in her side. And then he was dragging her, backwards, to the rock and throwing her face in the water again as she struggled. This time he pushed her further down, holding her arm and her head in place, his knee again on her back.

Panic finally broke the surface and she seemed to seize in his arms as she tried to break free from him. But he held her steady. She couldn't hear anything aside from the rushing water in her ears. Nayna was grabbing desperately at the rocks, trying to push herself, but Spencer's grip was far too strong.

She felt herself slipping, slipping off the rock and she plunged, headfirst into the cold, cold waters of the Potomac. Nayna bobbed to the surface and she saw Spencer regaining his footing. That fucker....But she went under again as the current swept her away. Nayna's body went limp as she was dragged along the Potomac. She didn't know how long she rode the current, how long it was between her last breath and this moment. All she knew were the swirling waters and the bed of the river scraping her body. All she knew was that she was dying. And there was no more fight left in her. Her only regret would be that she died from drowning and not a head wound. She'd be a Walker....Darkness filled her brain and she started to fade. 

Flashes of memories whirled through her mind. The day she graduated from FLETC. The look on William's face as she walked down the aisle. Her first solved case. Her boss being shot down by the Corps. Shimmying her way under the fence. Shane and Glenn yanking her off that bus. Meeting Rick for the first time. The CDC exploding. Carl getting shot. Shane sitting on the fence, hands covering his face as he confessed about Otis. Rick shooting Sophia. Learning that Shane had died. Finding the prison. Promising Lori she'd look after Carl and Judith. Telling the Governor to go fuck himself sideways. Going with Rick on a run and ending up holed up in a car, listening to Don't Fear the Reaper on repeat, while he kept telling her about his fever. Helping Rick build the pens for the pigs. Falling off the horse again and again, and Rick laughing his ass off at her. Walking with Rick and Carl and Michonne to Terminus. Finding Alexandria. Rick's arms around her as she cried. His fingers touching her face. The graveyard. Negan's mouth covering hers for the first time. Negan's hands in her hair. Laying with her head on Rick's chest. Him holding her hand. His eyes. His smile. His face. 

And he didn't know. It seemed so stupid to her. All of it. She was going to die and Rick didn't know.


	16. The Things We Find

DARYL

As of late, Carol was becoming more and more withdrawn. Daryl didn't like the change in her. Ever since those damn Saviors grabbed her and Maggie, Carol had seemed farther and farther away. 

He was on his way to see her early that evening when Rick stopped him.

Rick scratched his forehead, looking around. “You seen Nayna anywhere?”

Daryl shook his head. “Naw, man. Last time I seen her was day 'fore yesterday when she and Spencer left on whatever damned project they were going on and on about.”

“Project?”

“Something about fish. I don't think Nayna has ever fished in her damn life.”

Rick smiled at that. “No, she hates the water.”

“Hm. Forgot about that. I was just on my way to see Carol—Rick, I'm worried about her. Somethin' ain't right ever since them girls nabbed her and Maggie. I know you got a lot on your plate right now, but I think you should pay her a visit. Might do her some good.”

“Yeah, of course. Damnit. There is just too much shit going on. I need Nayna here. She was supposed to be back yesterday.”

Daryl pulled a smoke from his pocket and lit up. “Be nice if we'd catch a fuckin' break.”

“Ain't that the truth?”

They walked in silence towards Carol and Tobin's house. 

Daryl smiled to himself. Rick raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just thinkin' about Nayna and her plans. She's as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. Prob'ly late because she nearly jizzed all over the idea.”

Rick snorted. “Sounds like her....Hey Carol.”

Daryl glanced up to find her sitting on the porch swing with her hands folded in her lap. She smiled at them and Daryl jumped up the steps to join her. She beckoned for the cigarette between his lips and he snorted and handed it over.

“How're you Carol?” Rick asked leaning against one of the tall, white columns.

She shrugged. “Same ole, same ole.”

Carol exhaled, smoke billowing around their heads. Daryl leaned back and surveyed her from the corner of his eye. And he was reminded of the Carol from two years ago. It hurt his heart and he slipped an arm around her shoulders.

Rick's eyes were searching Carol's face, his own inscrutable. But she was gazing into the window of her house.

“You okay?” Rick asked finally.

Carol turned her stare to him and smiled wryly. “If I lied and said yes would you go away?”

Rick looked down at his shoes and then back up at Carol. He sighed. “Carol...”

“Don't, Rick. I'm alright. I'm getting by. That's all anyone can ask for these days,” she said, taking another drag.

“Yeah, I guess.”

They sat in silence as Carol finished Daryl's cigarette. She stood up and patted Daryl's arm in an awkward fashion before disappearing into the house.

Rick rubbed his nose with the back of his arm, watching her. 

“See what I mean?” Daryl said. Rick nodded.

“I don't know what to do for her,” Rick admitted.

“Space and time, I guess.”

Rick shrugged, staring out towards the wall. His brow furrowed and he pushed himself off the column.

“What is it?” Daryl asked, standing.

“Is that Spencer?” Rick asked, squinting.

Daryl looked over his shoulder and found Spencer stumbling up the path.

“Yeah, looks like it...he's...he looks fuckin' drunk. What the hell?”

Rick's eyes went beyond Spencer, looking for any sign of Nayna. But only Abraham and Rosita trailed after him. Daryl exchanged a glance with Rick. They both nodded and met Spencer in the road.

He looked fucked up. One of his eyes was swollen shut, there were scratches on his arms and the side of his neck, and he smelled something awful. Daryl noticed that his bumbling gait had a limp to it, as if he'd been kicked in the knee. Fucked up, actually didn't even begin to describe it. How he walked back from the Potomac, they would never know.

“What happened?” Rick asked.

Spencer blinked at them, but staggered past. Rick and Daryl were left with no choice but to follow along with Abraham and Rosita.

“Boy just wandered in. Hasn't said shit,” Abraham informed them.

“Who's covering y'alls shift?” Rick asked.

“Sasha and Eugene have a handle on the situation.”

“Nayna come in after him?” Daryl asked.

Both Abraham and Rosita shook their heads, causing Daryl and Rick to look at each other in alarm. 

Rosita helped Spencer sit on a nearby porch with his head in his hands. Daryl noticed dried and crusted blood on his neck, but nowhere else.

“I'm going to get you something to drink,” she said. “Just hold on.”

Daryl watched her jog up the stairs and disappear into the house.

Rick cleared his throat. “What happened out there?”

But Spencer just stared beyond Rick and Abraham. Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at him. Somethin' just wasn't right. It didn't sit well with him. Beside him he could feel the anger radiating off of Rick, who he knew was in no mood to be gentle for stupidity.

“What--” Rick started but was cut off when the door banged open and Rosita rushed out. 

She handed Spencer a glass of water, sitting beside him. She avoided Abraham's gaze. Daryl wanted to roll his eyes. Like a damned romance novel. Too much fucking drama. 

Rick tried a different tactic. “Where's Nayna?”

Spencer said nothing, staring at the water. Rick turned his face away, his chest heaving up and down. Daryl saw him close his eyes, clench his fist to his mouth and square his jaw. When Rick opened his eyes, Daryl only saw raw anger there.

Rick lunged forward and grabbed Spencer by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the column of the house. The glass shattered on the sidewalk, spilling water everywhere.

“Hey!” Rosita cried, but Abraham put out his arm to stop her. She glared at him.

“Where is Nayna?” Rick hissed in Spencer's face.

“D-d-dead.”

Spencer dropped to the ground as his shirt slipped out of Ricks hands.

“What?” Rick's voice became hoarse.

Daryl felt his heart drop in his chest. Nayna couldn't be dead. She was a survivor. Sure, she could be a bitch sometimes and she surely pissed everyone in the group off at one time or another, but goddammit if she wasn't the most reliable person. He knew many of the Alexandrian's weren't too fond of her, but they hadn't taken the time to get to know her. She was one of the few people Daryl was glad to have let in. She was one of their own.

Rosita's hand covered her mouth and Abraham's eyes narrowed. Spencer sat stupidly on the ground, looking at his twisting hands.

“Just what in the holy Jesuits pants happened out there?” Abraham demanded.

“We got to the river okay. Nayna set up camp and we started to map out the area. Nayna wanted to survey which parts would be best to fish from. Where it wasn't so...crazy....But...We were attacked.”

“Attacked by who?”

A shadow overcame his face. “The Saviors.”

“Now why in the bitch nuts would they do that?” Abraham asked, shifting to his other foot as he squinted down at Spencer.

He just shook his head. “We were walking towards the river and they came up behind us. Grabbed her and just threw her in the Potomac.”

“And they just left you there....” Abraham said incredulously. 

“Well,” Spencer groaned, pointing to his head. “They got me, but I slipped away.”

Rick's jaw was clenched so hard, Daryl thought it was going to break. “You just slipped away. You didn't bother to go find her or her body or...you....”

“I barely made it out of there with my life. They threw her into the fucking river, man!” Spencer cried.

“Nayna's smarter than that. I've seen her take on a guy twice her size,” Daryl pointed out. “How exactly did they overpower her?”

“How many were there?” Rick demanded.

“I don't know! I didn't see. The last thing I saw was them grabbing her weapons and hurling her into the Potomac.”

Rick had walked a few steps away and was bent over, his fist on his face. Daryl went to stand beside him, placing his hand on Rick's shoulder. “Hey, man. It's goin' to be alright. I'll go find her.”

“I think I need to go lie down now.....” Spencer said, looking down at his fingers.

For a moment, Daryl really thought Rick was going to punch Spencer in the face. His eyes had a wild, hungry glare to them, that made even Daryl nervous. It took Rick everything he had not to just beat the living shit out of him, by the look on his face.

“Yeah,” Rick snarled, turning back to Spencer. “You do that.”

Rosita frowned and helped support Spencer. She glanced back at them and shrugged, thinning her lips out. Daryl realized she didn't believe Spencer either, and he felt relieved. Good, the more people they had on their side the better. Abraham, Daryl and Rick watched them walk up the steps to the door of the house.

"That boys story is as holey as Swiss cheese," Abraham said, narrowed eyes watching Spencer and Rosita weave and wobble into the house. 

"Yeah, no fucking shit. Rick, I'm going after her. Yeah I know its almost dark but I gotta know. Gotta find her body at least. If they dumped her in the river it should be around..." Daryl said.

"She..." Rick covered his face with his hands. "She...hates water in her face....That's the one thing...." 

Daryl sighed. “I know, man. I was there when she fell into the pond remember? I know. I've got this.”

Abraham shook his head. “Why would the Saviors attack Nayna? Especially if Negan has a hold on her, wouldn't she be off-limits? Negan's got to know that'll start a war.”

Rick ran his fingers through his hair. “I don't know. But you're right.”

“Something smells off,” Daryl said and started to walk away. He beckoned the two of them to follow him.

When he felt they were at a safe distance he stopped. “Did you notice he was mostly clean? If he walked straight from the attack, he'd have a hell of a lot more blood on him than just one side of his neck.”

Rick rubbed his beard, pressing his lips together. He stared into the sunset. “Those scratches on his arm weren't from tree branches, but nails. Why would the Saviors scratch and not punch? Or shoot?”

“If they overpowered Nayna that easily, why is he still alive? She may be small, but...It ain't easy to sneak up on her. It just doesn't make no damned sense,” Abraham said.

“Like I said. I'll go. I can track them and figure out what the fuck happened.”

Rick squared his jaw. “Fine. I'm coming with you.”

“Naw, man, you're needed back here. Keep an eye on Carol and...sorry brother, but you'd only slow me down and time is of the essence here.”

“Daryl is right, Rick. You're needed to hold down the fort.”

“But it's Nayna,” Rick mumbled. “I can't not go after her. I can't....I don't want her to think I don't lo-care about her.”

Abraham frowned and Daryl noticed the look of pity in the man's eyes. 

“Hey, man. She knows,” Daryl put his hand on Rick's shoulder. “Look, I'd like to stay and cheer you up but, I've got a missing girl to find.”

“Woman,” Abraham corrected.

“Semantics,” Daryl muttered.

“You sure?” Rick asked hoarsely looking up at him. 

He nodded. “It's important, isn't it? Yeah, I'm sure, Rick.”

Rick rubbed his face. “Take a car..”

Daryl shook his head. “Be better if I go on foot and follow their trail.”

“How will you....?”

“She's small enough, Rick.”

He nodded at Daryl. “Alright. Just....”

"Don’t worry about me, man," Daryl said.

Rick nodded. "Just bring her home." 

 

It didn't take him long to pick up their tracks through the woods. Nayna's tread was light, barely making an impact, while Spencer had just fucking crashed through the forest like King Shit. Dipshit. He could see where Nayna tried to be careful and where Spencer just didn't give a shit.

Daryl could imagine Nayna humming, seemingly in her own world, but still picking up on the world around her. He'd taught her that. She made him proud at the pace she picked up hunting skills. While she wasn't a born tracker, her background as an investigator helped her pick up on the subtle clues left behind by game. 

Little by little the sun sank down in the sky, until Daryl couldn't see two feet past him. He had a flashlight, but there were things he could miss in the half dark. He preferred to wait until morning. Lucky for him there was a tree he could climb. He yanked a rope from his bag and climbed. Just high enough to be out of reach of any stray Walkers, but low enough that he wouldn't fucking kill himself if he fell. Of course that's what the rope was for. He settled in the tree and let himself doze. 

When morning came, he only felt slightly worse than being hungover. A quick piss, breakfast and water and he was on his way again.

He easily picked up their tracks again. And again he felt a surge of pride in Nayna's light footing. And a shot of irritation at Spencer. If he was telling the truth, anyone could have followed his trail. Broken branches, feet slammed into the mud with clear footprints.

He was about a mile from where Spencer said they'd made camp, so he broke off from the trail to look for signs of any others. But after an hour of unsuccessful searching, he decided to head to the camp and try to work his way backwards. 

It wasn't a camp he came across, though. Merely a pile of Nayna's things. Daryl felt his breathing quicken. Fucking lying sack of shit. Fucking stupid ass lying sack of shit. He was so incompetent he couldn't even cover his own fucking tracks. 

Donuts to dollars his injuries were from Nayna. How the fuck did he overpower her? Daryl walked over to her things, laying haphazardly in a pile. Her belt, her quiver, her gun, her satchel and her bow were piled one atop the other, no rhyme or reason. Daryl opened her satchel and pawed through it's contents. Two extra clips for her gun, extra arrowheads in a small pencil case, strips of dried venison, two water bottles, an extra pair of underwear and socks, a hairbrush, hair ties, scraps of paper with plans scribbled all over them, rope, a first aid kit, matches, a pocket knife with Will etched on the side, fingerless leather gloves, a map of the area, carefully folded toilet paper in a ziploc bag, a bar of soap, a compass, and...a picture of Rick from the prison.

Practical, practical Nayna. Didn't she have anything sentimental? Daryl wasn't that sentimental either, but then again he wasn't a woman. As he bundled the things back into the satchel, he thought about Rick and Nayna. It was obvious to everyone but Rick how much Nayna loved him. And it was obvious to everyone but Nayna that Rick returned her feelings. Well, obvious to everyone except Rick. 

He stood up, and picked up her gun. He turned it over in his hands, studying it with a frown. There was no indication it had been fired, but then again he wasn't exactly a ballistics expert. Daryl shoved the gun in his pants and glanced around.

There were several footprints in the mud, near a few rocks on the bank of the river. He approached carefully, listening to the sounds of the Potomac crashing and rushing by. He studied the footprints. There had been a struggle alright, but between two people, not a group against two people. 

Fucking fuck. Based on the foot prints alone, if Daryl had to chance a guess, he would have bet anything that fucking Spencer threw Nayna into the river. Jesus Christ. She knew how to swim, but in these waters, even the best swimmer would get swept away. And he'd seen Nayna in the pond that day. The first time he ever saw her lose her cool, panicking and crying with snot running down her face as she held on to Rick with a death grip.

There was blood on one of the rocks at the edge. He knelt down and touched it. Dried. A day or two old maybe. At his feet he noticed a bloodied, sharp rock.He picked it up and shook his head. Donuts to assholes this was used on fucking Spencer. When he got back to Alexandria, he was going to fucking kill him. But first, he had to find Nayna's body.

There was no way, no fucking way anything else happened to her. No other footprints, no other signs of a struggle, other than the jumble of Spencer's shoes and Nayna's boots.

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, pressing back angry tears momentarily. Wasn't the first time he'd lost anyone. Wouldn't be the last. He fuckin' hated it, though. Besides his brother, this was the first time one of their group had been deliberately murdered. In cold blood.

There was no way he could have overpowered her unless he'd sneaked up behind her. Nayna was small, but as she always was pointing out to Rick, part of her training was how to subdue men twice her size—men like Negan. She'd been pretty good at it, along with her sharp listening skills. The fucking coward.

He threw Nayna's satchel over his shoulder and picked up her bow and belt. He wasn't going home without her. All of her, including her things.

Daryl started down the river, looking for a break in the rapids. He finally found one three miles down, after an hour of searching. 

It was about midday and he longed to take a break, but he refused to until he found her. He wouldn't leave her.

It could only have been described as lucky when he stumbled across the footprints. Not Nayna's. Too big. Two sets, both probably male or a really big female. One set was a heavier tread than the other. As if he were carrying something.

Daryl's heart soared with hope and he crashed through the forest, not giving two shits about what kind of trail he was leaving as he tracked the two men. They had to have her, he thought. There was no way. Of course, it could be nothing, but Daryl thought it was his best bet. 

If they were carrying her, it meant she was alive.


	17. The Things That Surprise Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm too wrapped up in my work, too close to it, so I really hope I haven't made Negan too out of character. I keep rereading it and biting my nails, swearing it's NOT NEGAN. And please, if you feel like it isn't, constructive criticism is always welcome!  
> As an aside, anyone else reading the Negan backstory from Image+ magazine? I just got it today and I have to say, it made me squee because I feel like I was right about one thing!

NAYNA

She didn't know how long she'd lain there. A day? A night? Two? All she knew was that she was heartsick and utterly alone. And she fucking hurt all over. She hadn't looked, but she was pretty sure there was a bad gash on her thigh. Every time she had tried to move it, a sharp pain shot up her leg, making her whimper. She'd had worse pain before, had pushed through it. But now...

Nayna was still half submerged in water, shivering, but she made no move to get up. When she had come to, she'd wiggled her toes, her fingers and moved various parts of her body. She was sore and beaten, and there was the gash in her thigh, but otherwise she was okay. Physically. Mentally, well that was a whole nother story.

There was blood in the water. Probably from the gash in her thigh, or one of the scrapes on her. 

She'd stopped caring about six hours ago. Instead she lay there, under the shade of a tall tree and hoped to die. Why bother? There was nothing to live for anymore. She couldn't even manage the strength to get up. If a Walker happened by she'd be Walker chow.

Her ears were below the surface of the water, blocking out most of the sounds around her. She didn't hear the birds in the trees, the river, the wind. She heard nothing but a ringing in her ears.

She hated Glenn for saving her. She hated Rick for not loving her. She hated everyone. But mostly, she hated herself. 

And her thoughts turned back to Alexandria. Her home. Funny how she called it home, after steadfastly refusing to call the prison home. They would have to just get by without her. Rick would take some adjusting, but he'd get over it soon enough. He had Michonne, he had Carl, he had Judith. He had everything he needed. He always told her he needed her, but he really didn't. If anything, it was she who needed him. 

She let her thoughts wander to Negan. What kind of man was he before all this? She had a feeling he was just another normal guy. Like Rick, like the rest of them. Truth be told, she saw Negan in a similar light to Shane, aside from the whole sexual attraction thing—Shane had never been her type. They both probably started out the same, but somewhere along the way they got rewired, they changed to fit into the new world. Though they all had at one point or another. But she wondered if it was too late for Negan. It had been for Shane. 

Sometimes she felt like she didn't fit in the new world or the old. And being as close to death as she felt, she could admit to herself she liked the new world better than the old. Life was hard, but it was so uncomplicated. But she slept better than before. Everyday was hard work, and she fell into bed exhausted each night. And she slept dreamlessly every night. It was bliss compared to the old world.

It had been so tiring. So much bureaucracy, so many manners, so much delicacy to remember. People had been the bane of her existence, and she had preferred her headphones and her video games to others. Now, she'd choose her people over those things. Her people...A pang flashed with the beat of her heart and she squeezed her eyes shut to prevent tears. She was always crying as of late. 

Every so often she would turn her head and gulp the water around her, out of some sort of instinct. Though she felt as if she didn't care if she lived or died, she did care about the manner of her death. Dehydration was a horrible, horrible way to die. 

She coughed and spluttered up the irony tasting water, realizing she was drinking her own blood. Her belly rolled and she had to close her eyes to keep from vomiting. The idea of laying in a pool of her own puke was less appealing than dying of dehydration.

Even if she was able to get up, how would she make it back, how would she find food? Why would she bother?

The sun was sinking low into the sky. Soon night would approach, with a chill in the air, as befitted spring. Even the waters around her had begun to cool. 

She closed her eyes and willed herself to just sleep, even in her awkwardly splayed fashion. 

Water splashed in her face and her eyes fluttered open. She squinted as if she were seeing things that weren't there. Two men hovered above her, haloed in the remainder of daylight. One had a half-burnt face and the other had cotton ball hair, sticking out everywhere.

They were talking to her and she glanced between them at a glacial pace. Even her brain was moving slow. Their voices were distorted and drawn out, deep and long. The notes sounded so low her brain wasn't registering them. She closed her eyes again, shutting them out. They didn't matter.

The familiar man with the burnt face grasped her shoulder and shook her. Tendrils of pain shot up from her ribs, burning all around her middle. A groan bubbled out of her lips and she half-heartedly swatted him away.

The cotton ball man knelt in the water and pointed to the gaping skin on her leg and then motioned to the blood in the water. Burnt man furrowed his brow and pushed her hair from her face. He leaned over her, talking to her, but his words were long and drawn out, warbly and stilted.She couldn't understand him so she just shook her head. She tried to tell them to leave her, but her voice came out in an awful jumbled snarl. 

Burnt man shook his head and hooked his arms under her knees and her back. He lifted her as if she were no more than a ragdoll. A horrible sound freed itself from her throat and Cotton Man winced.

Her fingers curled into his wife beater and her head lolled to each side. The trees swooped around her as Burnt Man carried her across the forest. She pawed at him, but he kept going. Her stomach could take no more and she vomited all over him and herself from the nauseating pain. 

To her there was nothing worse than throwing up and she started to cry in shame. Every time she sobbed it hurt worse, until her body could no longer withstand the pain and she blacked out.

When she opened her eyes again she was in a truck, speeding along. Her head lay in Burnt Man's lap, and she was hot. So hot. But her whole body shivered and her teeth chattered. So much pain. She let the rocking lull her back into a soft sleep.

She was dimly aware of being lifted again, of loud clanking sounds and hushed voices. Of the burning pain in her belly and her thigh. Oh god, her thigh was on fire. More clanking and banging.

“Rick! Turn it off,” she cried. “You've got to turn it off, it'll alert every Walker in this place.”

She stopped, panting and a shadowed Rick was pointing past T-Dog to the broken gate. They were already there.

“Run! Run!” She sobbed.

The voices murmured above her, and she moaned as she was placed on a table. Or did she fall in the catacombs? She couldn't tell. Whatever was under her back was hard and cold. Her heart was racing as if she'd been running, and her mind scrambled to make sense. 

A loud cry. It was Lori! There were walkers everywhere and Lori was having a baby! They were huddled in that room, that hot absurd room and Maggie and Carl were frantically exchanging whispers.

Lori grabbed her hair and pulled her down. “Promise me you'll take care of my baby? And Carl? And Rick?”

No, Lori couldn't be having a baby now!

She cried out. “Lori!”

But Lori had a death grip on her arms.

Nayna twisted and moaned. Someone roared. “Tie her the fuck down if you have to.”

“Lori?”

But the voice who answered her in the darkness wasn't Lori. “Shhh, doll....Goddammit isn't there something you can fucking give her? She's fucking burning up.”

“Lori! Wait!”

How long she lay there waiting for Lori, she didn't know. But she knew that Lori never came.

Someone was close to her, holding her hand.

“Rick?” She whimpered.

“No, doll. Not Rick,” a terse, familiar voice answered her. A cool hand stroked her face and she leaned her cheek in its palm. A sigh escaped her lips.

“William?”

“No, doll,” the voice was split between patience and annoyance, but she couldn't tell. All she knew was that she didn't want the cool hand to go.

She was fading into sleep again. But sleep didn't hold her for long because Lori was having a damn baby and how could she sleep at a time like this? They had to go because the barn was on fire. But Lori was having a baby? No, the farm was overrun. 

“Shane! Rick where's Shane?”

A sob and Nayna twisted again. Maggie was there with the knife in her hand and Lori was nodding. Carl was sobbing at Lori's side. She had to hold Lori's hand.

Her fingers tightened around the hand in hers. She had to hold Lori's hand. Her hands were so deliciously cold.

Lori screamed and Nayna's eyes shot open. A man leaned over her, a face she knew she was well-acquainted with, but she couldn't place. She stared into his hazel eyes, trying to hold on to him. Was she dying? Was Lori dead?

“Lori?”

The man's brow furrowed and he shook his head.

“She's dead isn't she?” Nayna tried to grasp the memories from Lori's death, but they escaped her like bubbles on a cloud. She found she couldn't hold onto any memory for more than a moment. The man's name was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't work out his name.

Her body ached with fever and her thigh pounded. She shifted on the...bed? and moaned when her heart danced against her rib cage. Even moaning caused pain.

“Doll?”

“Hurts,” she whispered in the darkness. “Am I sick?”

“Very.”

“Lori, is she dead? She's having a baby and Maggie...and Carl...” Nayna cried and shifted in the bed. She had to find them.

The comforting hand stroked down her face. “I'll find out for you, doll. Stay here.”

Each time she called out, the same voice answered her, calm and steady. Sometimes she wanted her husband, William. Sometimes she wanted Rick. Other times the things she said made no sense. She blathered on about Butterball the asshole horse or that fuckin' asshole Spencer. How she was going to kill him when she found him. How she was gonna take Lucille from...she was going to beat the shit out of him with Lucille.

When she told the man that, he laughed. “You get better, doll, and you have a fucking deal. I'll loan you Lucille.”

She smiled into her sleep. 

 

When she woke up, she found herself alone. Aside from the faint glow of machine displays, the room was dark. She had the distinct feeling that even though she was alone, she hadn't been so for very long. But she couldn't place who, if anyone, had been there.

She certainly wasn't anywhere she recognized. Definitely not Alexandria nor the Hilltop. And not the riverside either. She rubbed her hands over her face, trying to piece together the last few days. But her mind was in a foggy, jumbled mess. Nayna found herself rather weak and achy. She sighed and gasped at the sharp pain in her side. 

She smoothed her hand down her side, freezing in place when she realized she wasn't wearing her clothing, but a hospital gown. Where the fuck was she?

Trying to gain a better bearing of her surroundings she attempted to push herself into a sitting position but the heated pain in her thigh prevented her. Oh fuck she was fucked up. And her tongue and throat felt like dry sand. There was a tugging on her arm and she realized it was from the IV.

Just the facts, she told herself. Sight, Sound, Smell,Taste, Touch. 

Her eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting and she could make out the small room by the light creeping under the door. There were several unfamiliar machines around her. A metal table holding various metal tools. The IV in her arm. Two chairs. One next to her bedside and the other across the room with...her clothes! A hospital? It was certainly clean, as far as she could tell.

She strained to hear anything beyond the shuffling of shoes on the floor, maybe low voices, a couple of quiet bangs beyond the room. So there were others around. Someone saved her from the river and brought her here.

Nayna took a deep breath, wincing at the sharp pain in her ribcage. The acrid, burning scent of bleach filled her nose and her belly rolled and growled. Definitely a hospital or infirmary of some sort if they were disinfecting with bleach.

The dryness in her mouth prevented her from tasting too much, but it was enough to tell her she'd been there for more than a few days.

The pain in her body indicated her swim in the river had ended badly for her. She still couldn't get a grip on what exactly happened. The last thing she coherently remembered was dropping her weapons to take a better look at the Potomac. She remembered flashes. Sinking down, being pulled along with the current. Having enough of a mind left to grab a rock, breathing and then her leg...Fuck. And then she lay in the water and someone got her. And then she remembered being delirious. Thinking a lot about Lori.

She was attempting to sit up for a second time when the door opened. The bright light blinded her for a moment and then the lights to her room were flicked on, adding to her inability to see. She rubbed her eyes and blinked and blinked until she was sure her vision had returned.

That's when she looked up and saw Negan standing at the foot of her bed looking....almost concerned for her. He was the one person she realized she actually wanted to see. And she burst out laughing. Oh it was just her luck. But it was good luck. She put pressure on her side to stop the jolts in her ribs. They didn't have half the supplies in Alexandria and the Hilltop was so far from the Potomac. And Negan wouldn't fucking coddle her.

“Something fucking funny?” He asked, annoyed.

“I just...how did I get here? And water, please.”

Negan kicked over the chair and sat next to her. He produced a water bottle and helped her sit up. She grimaced, pressing her lips together, but breathed a sigh of relief when she found there was no more pain to sitting up than lying down. Negan pressed the bottle in her hand and she gulped down the entire thing in less than a minute.

“More?” she asked but Negan shook his head.

“You drink too fast it'll all come back up, doll. And you might be beautiful, but I don't fucking like being puked on.”

She wrinkled her nose and squinted at him. Did he just call her beautiful? Was he fucking blind? At the very least her hair was greasy and she hadn't showered in...

“How long have I been here?”

“Four days. You've been delirious as fuck, doll.”

She nodded. “I remember some of it. Have you been here the whole time?”

Negan shrugged. “Fair amount.”

She flushed and was suddenly very aware of the thin hospital gown. She pulled the thin blanket up and around her middle. 

Negan snorted. “Doll, I've already seen your tits. No need for false modesty.”

Her face bloomed even redder and she put her cheek on her shoulder.

“Have to say, doll, you're adorable when you're shy. Though I kinda fuckin miss your snark.”

“I'm too tired to be sarcastic,” she mumbled.

He reached up and stroked a lock of hair from her forehead. “You're much cooler than you were. That was one fuck of a fever, doll. Care to fucking share what happened? Dwight and Gus found you in the fucking Potomac.”

She remembered a pair of cool hands from her delirium and she wondered if they'd been a dream or Negan's hands. Probably a dream.

“I'm still trying to piece everything together,” she said softly. 

Negan's thumb traced her jaw and she shivered. “Continue.”

She cleared her aching, raw throat. “Spencer and I were going to the Potomac to map out the area--”

“--you fuckers don't have maps in Alexandria?”

“Yes, we do. But I wanted to chart where the currents ran and fish and I don't remember what else. It's like looking in the dark. Anyway, the last thing I remember before waking up is setting my stuff aside. The rest is in flashes. Seeing Dwight and Gus...riding in the truck. Being sick. And here talking to you now.”

“What the fuck happened to Spencer?” Negan's hand rested on her good thigh, sending a thrill through her heart.

“I don't know. I don't remember.”

“Interesting. You know they didn't find you with any fucking weapons on you. Don't you at least carry a fucking knife?”

She squinted, staring past him. “It...I think it fell in the river.”

Yes, there was a memory of the knife skidding across the rock and plopping into the water. And a struggle. And then her memory went black again. “Goddammit, why can't I remember?”

“Calm the fuck down, doll,” he said. For all his rough words, his tone actually soothed her.

“I...” She sat forward suddenly and looked at him. “Why are you here?”

“The fuck you mean? This is my fucking home.”

“No, I mean....why are you here with me right now? It doesn't seem like your thing.”

Negan shrugged again. “How the fuck would you know what my thing is, doll?”

“I mean,” she played with the edge of the scratchy blanket. “You're not the type to visit the convalescing. You're more the type to make people do the convalescing.”

Negan shook his head, smirking. “Doll, you don't know the first fucking monkey fuck thing about me. Yeah I might spit in your--”

She cut him off with a loud gasp.

“What?” Negan stood up. “What's fucking going on, doll?”

“That fucking monkey dick, jizz eating, rat bastard, whoring motherfucker.”

Negan's brows jumped into his hairline, but a deep grin spread across his face, playing up his dimples. “You make me fuckin' proud, doll. What the fuck are you going on about?”

“That buttfucker threw me in the fucking river. Oh I am going to fucking beat the holy fucking hell out of him. I'm going to slash his fucking guts. Oh my fucking jesus,” as she tiraded, she threw the blankets off her with great effort.

“Whoa, whoa hold the fuck up,” Negan caught her by the shoulders. “You're not in any condition to fucking be moved, much less kill a bitch. Now care to fucking tell me who the fuck you plan on fucking beating the fuck to death?”

She leaned in, glaring. “Why, your very best fucking friend. Spencer the cockless fuckwad of whoreball mountain.”

She furrowed her brow as Negan's shoulders shook. “What the fuck is so fucking funny, Negan? That fucker threw me into the river!”

“Your foul mouth. It's fucking sexy as fuck doll. Even if you do look like shit.”

Nayna sniffed. “And here I thought you said I was beautiful....Argh, stop distracting me and let me fucking go. I am so pissed. And he has his fucking eyes on Rick.”

The mention of Rick caused all the good humor to fly out of Negan's face. He looked at her coldly. “You're not going anyfuckingwhere, is that clear?”

“Yes, I am and you can't stop me,” she snarled and put her hands on his chest in a pitiful attempt to shove him away. He was as unmoving as a tree and he kept a firm grasp on her.

“Fine. You walk from here to your clothes on that chair and back without limping or fucking wincing and I will personally take you back to Alexandria. And I'll even let you fucking use Lucille. Deal?”

She measured the distance with her eyes and chewed on her lip. Now that she was thinking about the pain it curled back into her, making it difficult to breathe. Her thigh throbbed and she wondered how she was going to even put pressure on her leg. She was about to agree that she probably should wait when she caught a glimpse of his face. He didn't think she could do it, by the knowing smirk. Fucker.

“Deal. Now let go, Negan,” she snapped.

He obliged and she pushed herself to the edge of the bed. Gritting her teeth, she slid off, trying to arrange her face in a bored manner. Negan wasn't buying it, only shaking his head. But she held her own head high and stepped past him.

Sharp, piercing tendrils swept over her side as her thigh screamed in protest. It took all she had not to inhale sharply or gasp, or hobble or fall into a puddle on the floor. She pushed passed him and kept reminding herself that pain wasn't anything more than chemical signals firing to the brain through synapses and neurons and shit. It helped, but not by much. Not enough, anyway.

“You're limping,” he accused from behind her.

“No, this is how I always walk.”

He snorted. “Doll, I've watched you fucking walk away. That is not how your ass moves when you walk.”

“It's the hospital gown,” she said, taking another tiny, tentative step. She could just imagine the smug prick's face.

And another step. Another. And then she put her foot down too hard and she yelped as her leg gave out. She fell hard on her ass, teeth clicking together as waves of agony burned across her side. She pressed her hand against her ribs, gasping in small, short breaths. 

She waited for Negan to tell her he told her so, but he didn't. Nayna was surprised when he slipped an arm around her shoulders and one under her knees and scooped her up against his chest. In the space of her twelve steps, he took three and had her back in bed before she knew it. Nayna looked down at her hands. She hated being weak and invalid. 

“Your job is to get better. And then we'll fucking talk about retribution, doll.”

“Why do you care?” She asked sullenly.

Why did Negan care? Why did he come? He said he'd sat with her for a while. She remembered the cool hands on her face again. Were they his hands? She hoped they had been. It was a side of Negan she was quite surprised to see. It was...endearing. And the thought almost made her laugh. Sociopathic Negan...Endearing.

He smoothed his hand over her rats nest hair. “Well, I'd fucking hate to have people thinking they can go fucking with my property.”

“Fuck you, I don't belong to you,” she muttered turning on her side, facing the wall. “I don't belong to anyone.”

That last statement was far more pitiful than defiant. Negan chuckled. “You're mine, whether or not you fucking want to be, dollface.”

“Go away.”

She could almost see Negan shrugging. “Suit yourself. But it'd be a shame if I lost you before I could fuck you. I'm still fucking looking forward to that.”

“Asshole.”

Another laugh and she heard his footsteps retreating towards the hall. They stopped and Negan said, “Meghan, look at me.”

She defied him for a beat, rolling her eyes before shifting her head on her hand to look up at him. She rubbed her side, finding that if she pressed down on it, it didn't hurt as much. “What, Joe?”

“You are fucking beautiful, doll. Now go the fuck to sleep.”


	18. The Games We Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Negan perspective. Still flapping hands about his portrayal because insecurity is fun! But thank you for all the comments. I read each and every one of them and squee when I get more. Pretty sure my husband is so sick of me squeeing all the time! Anyway, this chapter is bound to make you guys tear your hair out, but enjoy since I probably won't update again till Monday or Tuesday. Research papers and travelling with one year olds are both teh suck!

NEGAN

When he walked into the infirmary he found Nayna balancing on her bad leg, yanking on her boot.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She grunted and stumbled forward. “Getting dressed. Dr. Ryan said it's fine.”

“And I say it's not,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. He admired her tenacity but her stubbornness was another story altogether.

“And you say it like I care. I'm not laying in that fucking bed for another fucking minute. I'm going the fuck home if I have to walk every step of the fucking way.”

Why were women so fucking stubborn? Why was THIS woman so fucking stubborn? He had the urge to just throttle her. He reached up and jerked a hand through his hair, counting to ten.

“Nayna,” he said, trying to calm his voice down. Her thick eyebrows only slanted downwards in an ugly scowl. “I know you're fucking bored--”

“--bored doesn't even fucking begin to cover it, Negan. I am for sure going crazy. I cannot sit around with nothing to do for another moment,” she snapped as she shrugged into her khaki vest, tugging the zipper, squeezing her tits together. His eyes flicked down as he remembered her bare tits. Fucking fuck.

He glanced back up to find her rolling her eyes.“You don't appreciate a little break from all your hard fucking work?”

Her dark eyes were solemn when they looked at him “No.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Do you not fucking understand English?”

“Want to fucking run that by me again, doll?” He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I told you I am going crazy. Not in a oh I'm bored way. I'm going crazy in a thinking-too-much-for-my-own-good way. I need something to keep me fucking busy. Anything. Fuck the only people who visited me were Dwight, Dr. Ryan and you.”

“Dwight was here?” He narrowed his eyes. That fucking prick. 

She studied him for a moment and then shrugged him off. “For a moment. He wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Fucking fuck, she was 'copping' him. “Yeah, what kind of fucking conversation did the two of you have?”

She opened her mouth and then snapped it closed again. A ghost of a teasing smile appeared on her small, soft lips. “Are you jealous?”

“Of him? Fuck no. You're all mine, doll. It's written all over that angry little face. Dwight just needs to fucking remember his place.”

Nayna blinked at him and shook her head. She turned away from him and scuffed over to the bed, smoothing the blanket down. Negan watched her wince as she hoisted herself up to sit and as she pulled her bad leg on the bed, crossing it with the good. “I'm not overly fond of Dwight, truth be told. He killed our Doctor. Denise. He killed Denise.”

A flash of annoyance raced across his mind. “Yeah and how many of my men have your people killed?”

Nayna shrugged. “I've killed at least 10 or 12. Doesn't mean I like it. Doesn't mean I can't be mad at Dwight for killing my friend.”

Negan snorted. “Are you the pot or the kettle, dear?”

Her focus strayed over his shoulder as she fixated on a spot beyond him. “The kettle. Always the kettle.”

“My point is, doll, that you have no fucking room to talk. You and your fucking friends not only killed my men, but you murdered them. In their sleep. Now you tell me who the fucking bad guys are.”

She gazed over at him, a hard look in her eyes. “There are no more bad guys in this world. There are no good guys either.”

“Well, good. At least you're fucking learning.”

Nayna shook her head, looking down at her hands. “A friend of mine said that at the start of all of this. I didn't believe him, but...he was right. He was right about a lot of things. In the end though, he couldn't cut it.”

“Shane?”

Her head shot up and she squinted at him. “How...?”

“You were looking for him in your fever,” Negan said and he kicked a chair over to sit across from her.

“Oh, right.”

They sat in silence for a bit as she picked at her already short nails. Her hands were small and calloused, no stranger to hard work and he admired her for it. Her jaw clicked as she scraped her teeth back and forth. And her cop face slid back into place. He sighed. He could only reach her a few minutes at a time. Playing with her was fun, but tiring. But he fucking enjoyed every minute of it. 

She cracked her knuckles and he was surprised to see a thin silver band on her left hand. Moreso surprised that he'd never noticed it before. He knew she had been married, as she'd mentioned the bow was a gift from her husband. 

Negan reached over and picked up her left hand, rubbing his thumb over the ring. “Why do you still wear this, doll?”

She shrugged. “Never bothered to take it off, I guess. Never even thought about it.”

“Take it off,” he commanded. He wanted to see how far he could push her, how much of her belonged to him and how much still belonged to Rick.

Her forehead wrinkled as she raised her brows at him. “Why?”

He dropped her hand in her lap. “Because I fucking told you to, doll.”

“But why do you want me to take it off?”

“Stop fucking questioning me and take the fucking thing off. Now.”

As always she had to pause before she obeyed him. But in the end she slipped it off her finger. He studied the white line left behind.

“What should I do with it?”

“Let me see it,” he said and held out his hand. She dumped it into his palm and leaned back on her hands, staring at the ceiling.

“This isn't even silver,” he chuckled. “Cheap bastard.”

She raised her brows slightly, still looking at the ring. “I know right? From Wal-Mart.”

He laughed. “Holy fuck.”

“Forty dollars,” she said. Negan couldn't quite discern her tone. Did she sound sad or annoyed?

“What a fucking cheap asshole.”

“Too bad it wasn't William who bought it.”

He raised his brows. “You?”

“Yep, cuz I'm a cheap fucking bastard. The ring doesn't make the marriage. The marriage makes the marriage. At least that's what my mother used to say.”

“Sage advice.”

One corner of her mouth turned up, deepening into a dimple. And then it was gone as she blew her bangs from her forehead, replaced by her cop face again.

He reached over and tilted her chin up to look at him. “You know...Rick doesn't have to fucking know everything.”

It annoyed him when her brow twitched and winkles appeared in her forehead. 

“Admit it, doll, you have the fuckin' hots for me. And I think you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever known.”

“Bet you tell that to all your wives,” she said sullenly. He grinned.

Negan leaned in until their lips were almost touching. “Are you jealous, doll? You're overthinking every-fucking-thing, dollface. I'll let you in on a little fucking secret. None of them have ever fucking kissed me and you have.”

A sense of victory swooped in as she blushed a fierce and silly red. He simply turned his head and their lips met, tender, soft and slow. She tasted exactly how he remembered, whimpered the same and even grasped his arms just as she always had.

“Let's get the fuck out of here and fucking go somewhere more...private, doll.”

He chuckled as she turned cherry red. Another sweet kiss and he picked up her hand, tugging her gently off the bed. She came with him as he sauntered down the hall. He felt her fingers grasping the inside of his elbow as he walked. As if she were afraid to let him go. 

As they passed various people, they bowed to him. He refused to look at Nayna, just knowing the scowl of disapproval on her face that he didn't want to see. He put his hand on the small of her back and led her through the factory. He knew she would be taking everything in to give back to Rick the fucking prick, just like Carl probably had. He hoped to make her forget. 

He grabbed her hand and tugged her into his room. She looked around and bit down on her lips, but Negan spied her dimples.

“Care to fucking share, doll?”

“I just didn't expect it to be so...tasteful.”

Negan threw back his head and laughed. “You amuse the fuck out of me, doll.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and guided her to the couch. After she'd sat down he handed her a bottle of water and sat beside her, resting his leg against hers. He smirked as she stared down at their touching knees and she shrunk back into the couch a bit.

“What are we doing?”

“You said you were fucking bored, doll. I'm giving you entertainment.”

A subtle, sweet blush crept up her already red cheeks. Negan chuckled and slid his arm behind her head. He reached out with his other hand and turned her face towards his. Her delicious tits began to heave and it took every ounce of self control he had to not grasp one then and there.

“Kiss me,” he said.

“Um.”

“You've never had an issue before, doll. Fucking kiss me. You make the first move for a fucking change. Stop making me do all the fucking work.”

She bit her lip and studied him for a moment, before cupping his face in her hands and brushing her lips across his.

“More,” he whispered into her mouth.

She pressed harder, and he grunted in approval as their lips danced apart and together again and again and again. He stroked his fingertips down her face and down her arm. He gripped her wrists and threw her arms around his neck. She sighed and willingly leaned herself into him. 

He grew hard in anticipation. He fucking wanted her, wanted to be inside of her with her wrapped completely around him, literally and figuratively. She was getting there. He kissed his way across her jaw and to her chin, going lower until he was nipping her neck.

“Do you want this, or would you rather be fucking bored in your room?” He whispered against her neck.

“I don't know,” she whimpered.

He ran his tongue along her throat and was pleased when she shuddered. “You don't know? Oh, I know. You think this is...bad. Oh, doll, be bad with me. Be that fucking bad girl that I know you are.”

She threw her head back, exposing more of her throat, sighing as he planted small, suckling kisses across her neck, to her collarbones.

“Let me make you forget everything, doll.”

She whimpered, grasping his shoulders, digging her nails into the fabric of his t-shirt. He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her into his lap, so she was looking down on him with heavily lidded eyes, panting...sexy. He let his hands roam freely over her body, starting with her nicely toned stomach and then gliding along her back down to her firm ass. He squeezed and she sucked her lower lip between her teeth. 

“Am I hurting you, doll?” 

She shook her head and he grinned. “Good. Take your hair out of that ridiculous braid. I want to run my fucking fingers through it.” 

Nayna leaned backwards, the backs of her thighs resting on his knees, while he cradled her ass. Her fingers trembled as they pulled out the tie and then as she ran her fingers through her long hair, undoing the braid. The combined scent of lavender, coconut and rose filled the air. 

“So fucking sexy,” he murmured and tipped her forward into his chest. She squeaked and put her hands on the couch on either side of him. 

Her mouth was a mere inch away from his and he willingly captured it with his own. Nayna's lips were easily coaxed open again and he curled his tongue inwards, tasting her moan. Negan allowed his hands to bury themselves in her soft, silky hair. And then he pulled her hair, bending down to nip at the exposed skin of her throat.

“I want you to fucking strip for me, doll.”

“What?” She panted, pulling away to look down at him.

He sprang up to whisper in her ear. “You fucking heard me.”

She laughed nervously. “There's no music.”

“Has that ever fucking stopped you before.”

He'd meant to tease, but what she said next shocked the hell out of him.

“I'm just used to stripping with music--oh god.”

He threw his head back and guffawed. “I thought you were a fucking cop, doll.”

She sat back on his knees again, covering her face. Oh she was sexy when she was shy. Negan fucking loved it. “I was!” She called from behind her fingers. “Just don't worry about it.”

He grasped her wrists again and wrenched her scarlet face free. Oh how he was enjoying this. He tipped her back down his thighs, and he grabbed her ass, while planting soft kisses all over her heated cheeks. “You don't get off that fucking easily, doll. Now extrapolate.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled sharply. “College. It's how I put myself through college.”

Negan grinned. “No fucking kidding.”

“Mmhmm, now shut up and fucking kiss me,” she growled.

He chuckled and nibbled her earlobe. “I'm the one who is fucking giving out orders here, doll.”

She looked down at him through half lidded eyes. He grinned and pulled her in for another taste before shoving her off, onto her feet.

“Strip.”

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, not anxiously but seductively, still gazing at him through a heavy haze. Her fingers went to the zipper of her vest and she slowly drew it down, releasing her beautiful tits. She turned her back to him and shrugged out of it, letting it fall into a pool at her feet. He skimmed his eyes down her body. Down the inward curve of her waist, out to the slope of her nice hips, down to her firm, round ass and her soft, pillowy thighs. To him, she was exactly the perfect amount of curves. She could use more meat on her bones, to make her a little fleshy, softer. She was too thin, too much on the brink of starvation. Nayna was the kind of woman who needed a little more weight to make her her sexiest. Though he had absolutely no fucking complaints about her right then. Especially since she was about to get fucking naked and ride his dick. His rock hard dick.

She grasped the hem and slid it up her skin, glancing back at him over her shoulder. He grinned at her and nodded. With one fluid motion she ripped it from her body, leaving her in that ugly fucking bra. Yeah, he'd have to do something about that. Not fucking appealing. But the woman underneath was. 

“Fuck yes,” he whispered, just loud enough to encourage her.

Nayna spun around and rolled her body, causing Negan to inhale sharply. God he didn't think he could get any fucking harder. He was positively throbbing now.

“Pants,” he grunted. “Off now.”

“Boots first,” she whispered and he was glad to hear she was just as shaky in voice as he.

When she was finally free of her boots, she turned around again as she yanked down her leggings and kicked them away. That's when he noticed the inky latin on her back, as she was pulling at the clasp of the fugly bra. It snapped open and the shoulder straps sagged down her arms. She wiggled out of it, still holding the cups to her perfect fucking tits. And she turned back to him, still disappointingly covered, smiling and throwing back her long, long dark hair. In this lighting she seemed like a different woman. Or maybe it was because she was fully into taking her clothes off for him.

“Drop the fucking bra. Now.”

She smiled wider and let the cups slide down her breasts and puddle on the floor, abandoned on top of all her other clothes and shoes. Negan licked his lips and said “Come here,” in a hoarse voice. 

She pouted. “I don't know you're awfully fucking dressed, Joe.”

Without an argument he stood and unceremoniously removed every fucking stitch of clothing he had, boxer briefs included. He watched in delight as Nayna's eyes lowered to his dick, springing free from his underwear. Her eyes traveled up his chest to his face and she held his gaze, boldly this time. Oh she fucking wanted him.

“Get on the fucking bed, doll.” 

She obliged, laying back, hair spread about her. “Come here, love.”

He didn't need her to ask a second time, and he climbed on top of her, allowing his erection to press against her soft, uninjured thigh. She opened her legs for him, allowing him to rest between them. 

“I fucking want you so bad, doll. I've wanted you since the first day I saw you in Alexandria. I was determined to have you and now you're fucking mine.”

She giggled and then cried out when he popped one of her peachy nipples in his mouth. Oh he was going to fucking drive her wild. Propping himself on his elbow, he cupped her other tit in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the very tip of her nipple, sending shivers up her body. He swirled his tongue around and around and around until she was panting and clawing at him.

“Oh Meghan,” he groaned against her ample breast, pressing his dick against her damp panties. “Let me fucking fuck you. Beg me to fuck you, doll.”

Her eyes brimmed with desire and fear. “ I-I-I can't do this. I'm sorry. I can't.”

Negan nearly groaned, instead he quashed his disappointment with irritation and anger. “Why the fuck not?” 

She turned red from her breasts to her cheeks. “I haven't...It's been 3 years. Almost four.”

“Really?” Negan asked, intrigued. “Who was your last?”

He skimmed his knuckles up and down her sides, making her squirm delightfully against him, her bare breasts scraping his chest.

“My husband.”

“Was he your first too?”

Nayna pressed her face into his neck and nodded against his skin. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Holy fuck. He grinned. This was too good. “Dollface, you know I'd never hurt you. And we could take it slow. So very fucking slow.”

She made a squealing noise of dissent against his neck, and he pressed her closer to him. “I fucking want you, doll. I'll fucking beg you if I have to. But if I have to beg, somebody's gonna get a hurt, real bad.” 

She snorted. “God, I hope it's my brother.”

Negan burst out laughing. “I wasn't fucking sure if you'd get the fucking reference.”

“Mmhmm.”

He bent forward and kissed her shoulder and then began trailing more soft kisses up her neck, until he had teased her face from his skin and kissed her in earnest. 

He had just put his fingertips in the waistband of her panties when there was a knock on the door. What. The. Fuck.

Nayna's eyes shifted to the door and then back to him. She smiled a sweet, teasing smile. “Somebody's gonna get a hurt real bad.”

Negan snorted and nuzzled her. “Somebody is going to fucking die. As much as it fucking upsets me to fucking say this, put your clothes back on.”

Another knock sounded on the door and he yelled out, “Give me a motherfucking minute. Fucking impatient fucks.”

He jerked his pants on, sans boxers, and stuffed his feet into his boots as he buckled his belt. Nayna handed him his shirt and he yanked it over his head. Glancing over, he found Nayna with her back to him shimmying into her leggings, covering up that perfect ass. 

“Didn't know you had a tat, doll,” he observed as she pulled her tank top down.

“I do,” she said as she bent down to retrieve her vest and swirl her arms into it.

“What's it say?”

“Dum Spiro, Spero.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“While I breathe, I hope.”

He couldn't help rolling his eyes. Women and their fucking sentimental shit.

The knock sounded again. Negan grunted.

“In a fucking minute!” He said over his shoulder before returning his attention to Nayna who was braiding her hair. He cleared his throat. “You were fucking saying?”

She smiled wryly at him. “It was a gift to remind myself that no matter how shitty life gets, there is always hope. My present to myself for finishing college.”

“You find that in a book or some shit?”

“No. It's my family motto.”

“So you got your husbands familys words tattooed on your back?”

She snorted. “No, my own family. I kept my last name after we got married.”

“That's fucking insensitive.”

She sat down to lace up her boots. “Hunter versus Teixeira. You tell me which one you'd pick.”

“Run that by me again.”

“Teixeira. TEE-Share-UH. I can't do the tongue roll that goes between the share and uh, but it's about the same.”

He sighed. “Let me go see what these fucking fuckers want. Wait here for me.”

Her smile was soft and sweet, playing upon her dimples and dreamy eyes. “Of course I will.”

He stalked over to the door when she said softly. “Joe?”

His fingers were on the handle when he turned back to her, raising a brow.

“Thank you for reminding me what I forgot.”

“What?”

But she shook her head and gestured to the door, which he yanked open and stepped outside to meet Dwight.

 

Dumbasses, all of them. Holy fucking christ. It was like fucking high school drama all over again. He pushed the door open, glad to have Nayna as a distraction. Though he did feel a tad guilty for leaving her alone for two hours. But he swiped a few sweets from the kitchen to make up for it.

“Doll?” He called out as he stepped into the room. No answer. He spotted her sprawled on the bed, her cheek on his pillow and her little feet bare. 

He watched her sleeping. The lines that hardened her face disappeared, giving her a soft and youthful appearance. All the hardships of daily life had left her and she lay at peace. He frowned down at her and sighed. He curled up beside her and stroked her hair before he got up to finish himself off. While thinking about her, of course.

The next morning he was awake first. He felt something pushing up against his back and he glanced over his shoulder to find Nayna curled up to him. They were both still dressed. At least she was, and he had a pair of boxer briefs on. Negan rolled on to his back and wrapped an arm about her neck.

“Doll,” he whispered, stroking her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked about in confusion before looking at him and relaxing. Hmm, maybe he was getting there, distancing her from Rick. His heart gave a weird jump but he sat up, pulling her with him.

“I've got a fucking surprise for you, dollface. Two fucking surprises,” he grinned.

“Yeah?” She mumbled against his shoulder and he smoothed her hair back from her face.

“I talked to Dr. Ryan last night and he said he feels comfortable with you finally going home. And secondly, I got you some new panties.”

She flushed at the mention of the word panties, but squirmed in delight against his chest. “Home,” she sighed.

“You don't fucking like it here with me, doll?”

“Oh Joe,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “Don't start.”

He leaned down and caught her mouth with his, kissing her deeply. She snuggled into him and sighed again. 

“We're leaving in an hour and boy do I have fucking plans for you, doll. Put on your new panties first and then we'll have a chat.”


	19. The Deception We Face

RICK

As he sat on the porch rocking Judith he was reminded of Lori rocking Carl to sleep so many years ago. How Carl used to curl up against her, exactly like Judith did to him. How they both would look up and smile sleepily before their same colored eyes closed with an utter expression of peace and tranquility on their little faces. He hoped Judith never lost that tranquility. And he hoped Carl would find it again one day.

These days it took everything he had to just not think. To not think of Nayna, who had been gone for nigh on two weeks. To not think of people who were demanding he release Spencer from Morgan's prison cell as there was no definitive proof that he had murdered her. To not think of the Saviors that hadn't shown up since before Nayna disappeared, which gave a hint of credibility to Spencer. 

Daryl told him about the footprints further down the river and being unable to find her body or Walker prints. Spencer said they might have gone back to get her. But fucking why? That didn't make fucking sense. Negan enjoyed his fucking game of dangling Nayna in front of Rick to fucking kill her and his men were too fucking scared to disobey.

Truthfully, he woke up every morning and his first thought was to ask Nayna what she thought about releasing Spencer. And then he remembered. 

The screen door opened and Carl stepped outside. Rick smiled up at him and moved over on the porch swing. Carl plopped down beside him and the three of them sat down as a family for the first time in a while. They were only missing Nayna and Michonne, who was on guard duty.

Carl leaned on his shoulder and sighed. Rick shifted Judith slightly and wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders. He'd had to grow up too soon and Rick hated it. 

Carl sighed again. “I miss her.”

There was no doubt who he was talking about. “Me too.”

“I feel so...I was such an ass to her before she died and now I can't even make up for it,” Carl said, fiddling with the end of his belt.

Ah, so he would finally find out what happened between the two of them. Rick remembered that day when Daryl had shown up with Carl sans Nayna. He had feared the worst between Daryl's somber look and Carl's tears, but Daryl was quick to say Nayna had gone hunting. And she'd returned that evening, according to Morgan, with empty hands.

“You want to talk about it?” Rick asked.

“No. Yes. I mean she moved out because of me. Because of something I said to her.”

“What--”

He was cut off by the sudden appearance of Tobin, popping his head over the hedge. There was a nervous twitch in his face.

“Rick!”

“Hey Tobin,” he said, forcing a mellow, even tone. 

Tobin shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a folded up letter. “Rick, Carol is gone.”

“What?” Rick asked, sitting forward. Judith stirred against his chest.

He thrust the letter into Rick's free hand and leaned on the railing. Carl reached over and grabbed Judith from his arms.

“I'll take her inside,” he muttered and disappeared back into the house. Rick frowned but turned his attention to the letter.

After he was done reading it, he felt sick to his stomach. Not Carol too. Carol was family, and it made him ill to see her this way. She wasn't in her right mind, it wasn't possible. Rick stood up and jogged down the porch steps.

“How long ago? Did you see her leave?”

Tobin shook his head, racing forward to keep in step with Rick. “No, she must have snuck out last night.”

They passed Morgan, who was busy practicing with his stick and Rick said, “Well she couldn't have gotten very far without a car.”

“What's going on?” Morgan asked, wiping sweat from his brow as he walked behind them.

“Carol's missing,” Rick said over his shoulder. “I'm going to go find her.”

“I'll go with you,” Morgan said.

“No, you don't have to.”

“No, I want to. There's something...Look Rick I'm going.”

“Alright, we can go together.”

The three of them reached the gate and looked up at Sasha.

“You seen Carol?”

Sasha shook her head. “No, I've been on guard duty since midnight.”

Tobin climbed the platform and stood next to Sasha. “There's a car missing.”

“You didn't see her leave?”

Sasha frowned and shook her head. “No, I didn't. She must have left during shift change.”

Rick sighed. “Yeah, she would do that. Alright, gas up another car and let's get going. Thank you Tobin.”

 

He rubbed his hands over his face as he got out of the car. He hadn't wanted to leave Morgan behind, but the sight of the Saviors truck rolling by that evening spelled trouble. If anyone could find Carol, it would be Morgan. The man who trekked over hundreds of miles just to find him, would have no problems following a blood trail. A trail that made his own blood run cold. Carol was out there somewhere and hurt, badly. He couldn't lose anyone else. He'd already lost Nayna.

Driving alone his thoughts shifted uncomfortably to Nayna. As much as he tried not to think about her, she was on his mind always. And Rick began to have a nagging suspicion about her, one that didn't even matter now that she was dead. 

The sun was beginning it's descent in the sky when Rick pulled up to the gates of Alexandria. Abraham and Eugene opened it for him, matching terse looks on their faces. 

“I know,” he said, stepping out of the car. “Saw them heading this way.”

“Where's Morgan?” Abraham asked.

“Looking for Carol still. With any luck he'll find her.”

Abraham snorted. “Seems like we're a little fucking short on that these days. Negan's been in a particularly funny foul mood since he arrived.”

“Wonderful, I need someone to fucking punch,” Rick grunted and Abraham laughed.

“Don't go busting up your hand or your pretty face, Rick. Negan ain't worth all that and a bag of chips, you know. Fucker is waiting with his truck outside the church.”

Rick half smiled and went to meet Negan who was indeed sitting in the church, grinning widely.

“Bet you'd never expect me to set my fucking foot inside a church, eh?”

Father Gabriel stood at the altar watching over the rowdy Saviors, frowning.

Negan followed Rick's gaze and snorted. “Sorry, Father we'll be out of your fucking hair now. Thanks for the fuckin hospitality. So fucking generous. Let's fucking go chat, Rick.”

After stepping outside Negan dropped his grin. “I want you to find me my new best fucking friend Spencer. I've heard some nasty fucking rumors and I'd like to talk to the prick first.”

“What rumors?”

“Rumors about Nayna. Where is she Rick? Do you fucking know? No one else seemed to fucking know. Or rather they fucking know but are too fucking cowardly to tell me to my face. Are you a fucking coward Rick? I know you're fucking stupid, but a coward too?”

“Dead,” Rick said in an equally dead voice.

Negan didn't look surprised. He didn't even flinch. He merely nodded. “Rumor fucking has it that Spencer offed her.”

“Don't know. He says it was your men who beat him up and then threw Nayna into the fucking Potomac River. And then you all don't show up for two fucking weeks. Not sure who to fucking believe, Negan.”

But Rick knew it was far more likely that Spencer did it than Negan's men.

“I knew you were fucking stupid...Or no!” Negan laughed. “You're pretending to be stupid so I'll think you're even more stupid! Ha ha ha, Rick! You know as well as I do that that mother fucker did it. And you don't have the fucking guts to execute the bastard. Now you're making me do your dirty work too. Fuck you, Rick. Fuck you with something hard and sandpapery. Because you're going to fucking regret the fuck out of not killing that rat bastard yourself. Yes, you fucking will. Now, go fucking send some one out to get Spencer. Don't make me fucking do that too.”

Rick nodded at Daryl and Abraham, who moved past the crowd to the jail cell. It wasn't long before they'd dragged Spencer down the street. The boy stood on shaking legs when he saw Negan and his eyes wildly darted from side to side, looking for an escape route that didn't exist.

Rick couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph, knowing that Negan was about to expose him for the fucker he was. But it wouldn't bring Nayna back and it wouldn't soothe the ache or hole in his heart. 

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer,” Negan grinned, tsking as he paced back and forth between Spencer and Rick. “What in the ever loving fuck am I going to do with you?”

“W-w-what?” 

“My friend Rick here tells me you were fucking with Nayna shortly before she died. He also was fucking kind enough to share that you fucking told him that my fucking men threw her into the river. Why in the flying monkey fuck would I do that? I actually like Nayna. Unlike the rest of you prickwads. And my fucking men know better. So I suggest you fucking get your fucking story straight or I will not hesitate to—I mean Lucille—will not hesitate to beat you to the fucking bloody sack of shit you really fucking are.”

“S-s-she slipped,” Spencer stuttered. “She's really clumsy you know? Bad judgment.”

Rage tore at Rick's heart. Lying, selfish fuck. If Negan hadn't already been there, he'd have beating the man to a pulp just for that.

Negan burst out laughing. “She fucking slipped.” He turned to Rick, grinning. “You ever hear such blatant fucking bullshit in your fucking life? She fucking slipped.”

His grin faded and he reached out, grasping Spencer by the front of the shirt, yanking him close. “Which is it, you fucker? My men threw her into the river or she slipped?”

“I uh don't remember that well, but I'm pretty sure she slipped.”

“Are you fucking stupid? Well don't fucking answer that because we all know that yes, yes you are fucking stupid you spineless, gutless coward. What I don't understand is why,” he glared at Rick. “You didn't fucking kill him.”

Rick crossed his arms over his chest. “We were waiting on you to confirm his story. It took you long enough to fucking get here.”

Negan threw his head back laughing. “You were waiting on me? That is so fucking cute, Rick. So fucking cute. If I had any suspicion he killed the woman I loved, especially in the manner that would have fucking terrified her the most—yes I fucking know about her fear of water—I would have beat the shit out of him, hog-tied him and thrown him into the fucking river myself. But hey, that's just me and yanno, I'm just not as fucking nice as you are. Or maybe not. Whatever.”

Rick glared at him. He fucking hated Negan, almost worse than Spencer who actually killed her. Negan who fucking tortured her and now was using her love against him. He narrowed his eyes and said, “Why should I kill him when it's easier to let you do my dirty work, Negan?”

“Oh, boy is that how you fucking think it is? Well today is your fucking LUCKY DAY Rick fucking Grimes. I'm not going to fucking kill Spencer. You're not going to kill Spencer. None of the fuckers assembled here will be fucking killing Spencer.”

A nefarious grin spread across Negan's lips. “But he is gonna fucking die today. Oh yes he is. Bring me Lucille.”

“I thought you said you weren't going to kill me?”

The entire town was watching Spencer and Negan, Rick included.

Negan leaned in and whispered. “I'm not. But she fucking is.”

Rick glanced over his shoulder, thinking it odd since he'd never seen a woman come along with Negan's men. And that's when he saw her with an unfamiliar hard look in her eyes. Nayna's alive! Nayna, his Nayna. Seeing her again sent a thrill through his heart. He stepped towards her without thinking about it, but she'd seen him out of the corner of her eye and shook her head. All he wanted to do was run to her and wrap his arms around her, to hold her to his chest, to protect her from Negan. A gasp swept through the crowd as Nayna stepped forward with Negan's bat. Spencer's eyes went wide. There was a dewy glow in her eye as she swung Lucille side to side.

Nayna turned her head to look at Rick. “Before I start I should mention that he was going to try to goad Negan into killing you as well.”

“But I'm not that fucking easily goaded, now am I, dollface?”

She glanced over at Negan and a smile flickered over her lips. A burst of pain shot through Rick's heart. She'd only ever smiled at him like that. Seeing it directed at Negan flared the anger in him and he had to dig his nails into his palm to stop from punching that fucker.

Negan's men assembled behind her and she stepped forward, next to Negan, who dropped Spencer on the ground. 

Nayna stepped forward and smiled down at Spencer. “You are a coward. We could have all lived in peace, but you wanted to be greedy. And for that, for that you're gonna pay. You make me sick. Your parents would be so fucking ashamed of you right now. They were such good, honest, hard working people and you turned out to be a sack of monkey shit.”

She shook her head at him and raised the bat high over her head and swung down in a long arc that seemed to take an exorbitant amount of time. A sickening thud came when the bat connected with the crown of Spencer's head. Blood spurted everywhere and Negan snickered. Spencer stumbled to the ground, but he pushed himself up again. Nayna rolled her neck, the pops echoing across the silent crowd.

Negan laughed. “Look at him! The fucking coward. Takin' it like a champ!”

She swung the bat, side to side this time, catching him in the face. He felt the crowd give a collective wince as the skin was shredded and ripped from his jaw. Spencer fell to the side, groaning and panting, trying to crawl away, but Negan shoved his foot under his belly and flipped him upwards and Nayna brought the bat down again. Rick caught a glimpse of the glittering excitement in her eyes and he felt sick. He couldn't watch this. It wasn't the brutality that bothered him. It was her turning into Negan that tore at his heart. This wasn't his sweet, soft Nayna. Who snapped when she was anxious, because she cared so much that she didn't know how else to handle anything but putting on the defense. The woman who looked at him with the big brown eyes, knowing what she said was wrong, pleading for him to not take her seriously. She truly felt everything she said. Her biggest failing was being unable to stop the anxiety and the lashing out.

Sometimes it boggled his mind, both halves of her. The sweet and soft side he'd come to know and the side where she would kill for him without remorse. Somehow both of those halves fit perfectly and yet they didn't fit together at all. 

And now this woman who used to gaze at him with those beautifully sad eyes, looked at Spencer with a maniacal happiness that wasn't her. Nayna wasn't the type of woman to act outside of her moral compass. And right now, he felt like she was straying far south of what was right. She had killed before and he'd never known her to regret it, saying each time she did it, it was for them. But Spencer...she was doing it for her. For the wrong reasons. 

Rick stepped forward to stop her, but Negan threw out his arm, catching him in the chest. He shook his head and said “Fucking let her finish what she fucking started.”

He winced as she brought the bat swinging down on the bloody, pulpy mess that used to be Spencer. People had stepped back, afraid to be splattered with blood and brain matter. Down came the bat, again and again and again. His stomach rolled when he looked up at her pretty face, covered in blood and gore and a sinister grin. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Negan laughed. “It's been for-fucking-ever since I've seen that done. I think that's enough doll, don't want the fucking townies here to lose their fucking lunch, now do we?”

She stood up, wiping some of the blood from her mouth with the back of her wrist, panting. Rick noticed that she'd pressed a hand to her side. Negan held out his hand for the bat and Nayna curled the end of it, almost protectively against her chest. 

He rolled his eyes. “Doll, give me Lucille. Fucking now.”

And she handed it over without a word. She looked back down at the mess that used to be Spencer and he saw the subtle wrinkles on her forehead, signaling her displeasure. Between that and her absolute refusal to meet his eyes, he knew she wasn't thrilled with what she'd done. But he know her stubbornness and knew she wouldn't admit it. Not at first. Definitely not in front of Negan. 

Rick looked around to the crowd and suddenly he felt worried. Olivia's hand covered her mouth. Tobin looked down at the ground. Aaron and Eric were exchanging glances with each other. Mikey, Spencer's nephew, sobbed openly. Daryl stared oddly at Nayna, assessing her, as if he hadn't seen her before. Michonne had turned away, covering Judith's eyes. Carl met Rick's stare and shook his head, pleading silently for Rick to do something. Even Maggie and Glenn had matching horrified looks on their faces. Nayna had just made herself a pariah. Maybe not to those who had known her before, but certainly to everyone else. If she'd calmly shot Spencer in the head for what he'd done, they would probably have forgiven her. That was something they could understand. But this senseless beating? No, they wouldn't understand it. Rick understood it. Not only the desire for revenge, but the fear that Spencer would do something else and the desire to inflict the same fear on him that he had so kindly bestowed upon her. Negan had said Spencer wanted to kill Rick too. This was Nayna's way of saying don't fuck with my family or I will kill you.

Nayna nodded, mostly to herself and swiveled on her heel. The crowd parted for her and she moved through as if she were an actor on a stage and the crowd was the audience. She was limping, very slightly, still holding onto her ribs. She was hurt. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to go to her SO BAD it hurt. But he knew she would just push him away. And it would break his fucking heart. Worse than this already was. He fucking hated seeing her in pain. 

Those two weeks without her were the worst of his life. Because even when Lori died, he'd had her. Nayna had sat with him by the phone and held his hand in silence. She never once questioned his sanity when he answered it, always had sat there, simply holding on to him. She needed him now and he couldn't go to her because of fucking Negan. Because he had sold her out to Negan. 

Rick turned to glare at him, as if to ask if he was happy. Never had he had such an urge to kill someone as he had for Negan at that very fucking moment.

Negan grinned at him. “Women are fucking crazy, man.”

And Rick watched as Nayna moved further away from him and as Negan followed her to a place he couldn't go.


	20. The Things We Shouldn't Enjoy

NAYNA

She staggered up the stairs to the brownstone. So far she still refused to call it home. Rick's house still felt like home, even if she didn't feel welcome there. 

Negan followed her not saying a word. He'd followed her all the way up the road in silence, aside from taunting Rick. They walked into the cold, quiet house together and Nayna sighed. Behind her she could feel Negan's eyes roaming, taking it all in.

She flicked on one of the lights to better see him in the fading daylight. He closed the door behind him and turned back to her with a look she couldn't decipher. Not anger, not sadness. Almost blank, as if he were waiting for her next move.

She looked at Negan, really looked at him. Tall and broad, he was a big man, not just by her short standards, but anyone looking at him would call him big. He was looking down at her with thick, furrowed brows, something between annoyance and exasperation in his hazel eyes. 

Never before had she felt so small, so vulnerable than she did before this man. The man who stripped her bare in the first five minutes of their one-on-one meeting. The man who burned through her very core, who she couldn't stop thinking about. Who she shouldn't be thinking about. And yet she found him constantly on her mind, especially in all the time she'd spent at the Sanctuary. She'd started looking forward to his visits. And she enjoyed the snark they exchanged. 

She stepped forward and reached up, stroking the stubble on his face with her fingertips. He said nothing, he did nothing aside from watching her, waiting. Nayna smiled, almost shyly up at him and traced a path down his jaw, over his chin, along the curve of his adams apple, all the way to the zipper of his biker jacket. She tugged it down, slowly, wanting to savor every moment she had with him. 

His breathing picked up, and Nayna's smile faded as she rubbed her hand over his heart, smoothing out the wrinkles in his white t-shirt. She closed her eyes, focusing on the hard rhythm of his heart. There was no denying she wanted him. No denying that he was probably the only one on her side after what she'd done.

She curled her fingers into his shirt as her own heart stung with loneliness. All she'd ever wanted was to be loved. To be wanted and desired. To be needed. She had never met a man who had fulfilled all those wishes. William had loved her. Negan desired her. And Rick needed her. No one wanted her. Not for her own sake. Never for her own sake. 

If she opened her eyes now, she knew tears would fall, so instead she reached up and pulled Negan in for a kiss. At least when he was touching her or kissing her, she could forget, for just a moment, that she was alone. A sigh escaped her lips when he touched his tongue to hers. She could feel all the apprehension, the anger, the pain melting away as she entwined herself with Negan. His hands buried themselves in her hair, all while his lips caressed and tugged hers.

This is where they were meant to go anyway. Nayna knew from the first time he'd laid his nefarious grin upon her, that they would be here. There was no escaping it, only the resolve to give up and become utterly his remained. And truth be told, Nayna had wanted him back all along. Even through the snark, the threats, she'd desired nothing more than to feel his hands on her. 

Negan's hands roamed down her neck and over her shoulders, coming to a stop at the front of her vest. She felt the zipper giving way as he slid it down the teeth. His hands came back to her shoulders, this time underneath the vest and she shrugged out of it, letting it pile on the floor. Nayna pulled on the sleeve of his leather jacket and he did the same.

She pulled away from him and turned for the stairs, finally opening her eyes. She cleared her throat and grasped his hand. “Come.”

He followed her up the stairs to her bedroom and she was glad her back was to him, for it gave her the opportunity to wipe away the remnants of tears. She dropped his hand when they entered and glided towards the bed. She perched on the edge of the bed and bent over, unlacing her boots and wrenching them from her feet. Next she rolled off her socks and kicked the mess under the bed. Negan stood there watching her, a frown on his face.

“What?” She sighed, feeling too tired and too sore to engage.

Nayna tugged the tie out of her hair and worked her fingers through the tangles. Her hair was getting unruly. She'd let it grow long because of an off hand comment by Rick, saying he liked his women with long dark hair. And then he went after blonde Jessie. She shook her head at herself, trying to evade thoughts of Rick or the look on his face after Spencer died.

“Why are you upset, doll?” He asked, sauntering over to her and bending down to look her in the eye.

“I'm fine,” she said in a voice that indicated anything but fineness.

“Doll,” he murmured and cupped her face.

She turned her head and pressed a dry kiss to his palm, closing her eyes. “Just....Make love to me, Joe. Please.”

He cradled her face between both of his hands and leaned forward to catch her mouth with his. His lips were tender, far more tender than she expected, even as he deepened the kiss, drinking her in. With every movement of his jaw, she felt the hunger, the desire emanating from him. He ran his fingers through her long, long hair.

Negan's hands slid down her body and he stood, bringing her with him. Nayna pulled back and stepped from his embrace to guide her shirt up her belly and over her head. He grinned and reached for the strap of her new bra, running his fingers under it and letting go with a sharp snap. She winced and rubbed her shoulder but Negan was too busy stroking her through the fabric.

“Looks fucking amazing on you, doll.”

“Thanks, don't do that again though. Fucking hurt.”

He laughed. “You didn't get many boys snapping your bra in middle school.”

“Try elementary,” she groused, gathering up the hem of his t-shirt in her hands, pushing it up over his own belly. Negan wriggled out of it, leaving his chest bare. 

She tried not to drool. He was all muscle and sexiness right down to the furry down on his chest, which she ran her fingers through. True, she'd seen it all yesterday, but she'd been too nervous and too preoccupied with not looking nervous to actually look.

He grinned down at her. “Like what you see?”

She blushed, making Negan laugh and run his knuckles down her cheek. He reached down and grasped his belt, yanking it free from his pants.

“Look at me, being all fucking rude and not taking my fucking boots off in your bedroom,” Negan laughed and sat down on the bed to remove his shoes.

Nayna watched his big, sexy hands working at the laces and then tugging the boots off one by one. He gazed up at her and reached behind her, cupping her ass and pulling her closer, so his eyes were level with her breasts. The tiny flickering she'd felt between her thighs earlier began to lick outwards as she anticipated his next move. And she was right as his hands crawled up her back and with expert skill, flipped open the clasp of her bra.

It tumbled to the floor and she stood feeling exposed. Even more so than in the truck that day and even though they'd just been in the same position yesterday. 

“I don't know if I've fucking told you this, doll,” he said, gripping her hips and leaning forward to kiss the swell of each breast. “But I fucking love your fucking tits. They are fucking amazing. So fucking big and firm and...”

She inhaled sharply as he pulled one of her nipples between his teeth. Her fingers came up to grasp his head, to hold him there as he flicked his tongue up and down and up and down. His stubble scraped over the sensitive flesh of her breasts, making her squirm and writhe underneath his mouth.

“...so fucking tasty,” he finished as he moved to the other breast, drawing her other nipple in his mouth and suckling until she grew hard. He squeezed the other breast and rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She threw her head back and moaned as the current of pleasure popped between her thighs.

And so he switched up, back and forth and back and forth until Nayna was sure she was going to melt in his arms. Her lips were sore from being bitten, her breath came in short whimpering gasps and she trembled at his slightest touch.

He hooked his fingers into her leggings and dragged them down around her ankles. She stepped out of them and kicked them across the room. Negan stood and pulled both his pants and his boxer briefs down, also kicking them across the room to join her leggings.

They stood close enough to each other that his erection brushed her belly and she pressed her cheek into her shoulder, trying to hide her blush. Negan laughed and coaxed her face free with his lips.

He whispered against hers, “You're fucking adorable when you're shy, doll.”

And then he grabbed her hand and wrapped it around him, moving her fingers up and down his shaft. She leaned back against the bed, stroking him, letting the grunts and groans he emitted wash over her. All shyness vanished and all she wanted was for him to touch her. So she gripped his wrist in kind and pressed it against the front of her panties. 

Negan chuckled and rubbed the heel of his hand along the seam, in unison with her pumping hand. They both were panting and their moans mingled together in the darkening room. Finally, Negan threw her hand off him, and jerked her panties down around her knees. Nayna let them fall to the floor as he pressed the entire length of his body against hers and covered her mouth with his own.

He reached down to dip a finger between her legs, stopping suddenly that made Nayna jerk back to look at him. And she realized he was looking at the hair she hadn't fucking trimmed in....since she moved out of Rick's house. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

She flushed, embarrassed by her lack of grooming. “Sorry, I--”

“--don't fucking care, doll. Pussy is pussy. Doesn't fucking matter to me as long as I'm inside of it,” he grinned. “And even better, it's your pussy. Well, mine now, but you get the fucking point.”

As if to prove his point, Negan reached down again and stroked along her slit. She bit her lips to keep from moaning. Negan chuckled and kissed along her neck, running his fingers all around her. 

He dragged his lips lower, kissing her collarbones and then her chest, his fingers still teasing and tormenting her below. She shuddered at the sensual rasp of his stubble, dragging down her skin. Fuck, she loved that feeling. Negan stopped at her breast and popped a nipple in his mouth, and Nayna gripped his shoulders, panting and shivering. And then he was kissing her ribcage, nuzzling her bruises. He withdrew his fingers and Nayna grunted.

“Don't stop,” she pleaded, but Negan ignored her, circling lower and lower until he was kneeling in front of her.

Negan on his knees in front of her, a sight she never expected to see. Nayna giggled in nervous anticipation. Oh god, he was going to....

She gasped as he lurched forward and slipped his tongue between her lower lips. Nayna leaned back against the bed, tearing at the covers, unable to stop herself from crying out as he moved his tongue up and down. 

He grasped her hips and delved deeper into her. She couldn't move, she couldn't think, she couldn't do anything except let the pulsating electric currents wash over her. His kisses were long and sloppy and so fucking delicious. She'd never felt this way in her entire life. If he kept it up much longer she was going to come. Less than two minutes in and she would burst.

Negan seemed to sense this so he pulled back and nipped her inner thighs. Nayna let out a high pitched whine and glared down at him through half-lidded eyes. But he only laughed and licked the bite spots as he spread her legs further apart.

He teased her with his fingers again, stroking and caressing, making her sigh, making her legs weak. Back and forth, he tormented her before he allowed his tongue to probe further. She grabbed his hair, curling her fingers into his head, silently pleading for him to go on.

And go on he did with his teasing and torture, sliding his tongue from side to side or up and down, only flicking her clit occasionally. 

“Fuck,” she panted.

Negan nipped at one of her lips and she moaned. 

She gasped again as he created a vacuum with his lips, sealing his mouth around her clit. Finally, fuck, she needed this so bad. Needed him. There was only him and his fucking tongue. He used his tongue to push back the hood as he suckled and she bucked her hips against his face. Though she was losing traction on the carpet, Negan kept his grip on her hips, holding her steady against the side of the bed. 

God, she wished he would never stop. 

As he swirled and swirled his tongue, sucking with his lips, her moans were becoming deeper, throatier and much louder. And then she was cursing as she came crashing down, writhing under his lips, crying out. If he hadn't been holding her up, her legs would have given way and she would have fallen. It seemed to go on and on and on as he kept suckling.

She roughly shoved him away, suddenly too sensitive to withstand his touch. Negan let her go and she slid to the floor in a puddle of satisfaction. He wiped his face and smiled down at her. A real, genuine smile that made her already pounding heart flutter.

Laying on the floor, she covered her face with her hands. Fuck, she couldn't remember it ever being anywhere close to that good with William. The poor fucking idiot. She fucking shook from head to toe, the adrenaline escaping her body in a great exodus, leaving warmth and contentedness behind. Negan stroked her cheek and she nuzzled his hand.

He picked her up and laid her on the bed. “My fucking turn, doll.”

Negan bent down and seized her lips again, taking no time to slip his tongue into her mouth again. Not only could she taste him, but she could taste herself too, and she felt the embers spark between her thighs again.

He climbed on top of her and rolled them so they were laying on their sides, facing each other. His kisses were softer and more tender than they had been even a moment before. His knuckles grazed her skin, from her shoulder all the way down her hip. He reached down and grasped the hollow of her knee and drew her leg over his hip, the tip of his erection dipped between her lips. 

For a brief second she worried about him fitting inside of her. It'd been so long, and even with her orgasm he was still pretty fucking huge. William had been average and more often than not, sex had been painful, even three years into their marriage.

Negan skimmed his hand up her side and cupped her breast, squeezing it lightly. He leaned down and kissed her again, and she not only felt his lips on hers, but she felt him nudging his way inside of her. She moaned as he moved slow, achingly slow, stretching her to fit him. It stung, but in the most erotic of ways. Nayna shuddered as he filled her up, pressing her body against his, wanting to be closer. She buried her fingers in his hair, pulling herself as close to him as she could. Even with him inside of her, he wasn't close enough. 

“Fucking fuck,” he growled, his breath tickling her chin. “I knew you'd be so fucking tight. And so fucking wet.”

When he filled her to the brim he paused, but only for a moment. He withdrew as slow as he entered before, smiling at down her, his dimples sending her heart into silly little flutters. A gasp escaped her lips as he slammed into her with unexpected force. Pain and pleasure mingled into one as he drove into her again and again. 

She grasped his shoulder and dug her nails in, whimpering each time he forced his way inside. Nayna leaned forward and kissed him, shoving her own tongue inside his mouth, overcome by the fierceness of her own desire. He'd ignited a new spark that was steadily turning into a wild blaze.

With all her strength, she forced him onto his back, rolling with him, until she was looking down at him. A wicked smile played on her lips as she placed her palms on his chest. He grinned back at her as he grasped her hips hard enough to leave bruises, but she didn't give a single fuck. All that mattered was this man inside of her and the pleasure he sent riveting through her body.

She rolled her hips, eliciting a growl of approval from him. Her nails dug into his chest as she began to grind her hips into him. Her hips ached as he grasped her even harder. She smiled as he closed his eyes, losing himself in her, not holding his deep moans back. He was utterly at her mercy and she fucking liked it. No, she fucking loved it.

It was a new power she wasn't used to. Having a man entirely wrapped around her finger. Even during sex. William couldn't have given less of a fuck about sex and Rick...obviously didn't want her. But underneath her was someone who she could control, by sex alone. The realization hit her like a ton of nervous bricks and she let a high pitched giggle escape.

Negan raised an eyebrow, but didn't open his eyes, too lost in the pleasure. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, “Am I making a weird fucking face?”

She leaned down, her breasts rubbing his chest as she moved her hips back and forth. She whispered in his ear, “Yes, but that's not why I'm laughing.”

“Mmm?”

“Just enjoying myself...Joe.”

He grinned. “Glad to hear it, Meghan. Now shut the fuck up.”

She snorted and kissed his shoulder and his chest, nuzzling into the wiry hair that was dark and peppered with just enough gray to be mysterious and sexy. His heart thumped rapidly under her forehead and she giggled again.

Negan snorted. “That's it, doll. You're fucking distracting me.”

And he easily overpowered her, tumbling her to her back. She giggled again and he shook his head. “You're going to get punished for that.”

Intrigued, she raised a brow. “Punished?”

He nipped her ear, thrusting evenly. “Don't sound so excited for it, you might fucking regret it.”

“I doubt—oh!” She hissed as he slammed into her.

“Punished,” he growled into her ear, sliding out of her and then jamming into her with the same deliberate force.

If this was punishment....She grinned a naughty grin. “You call that punishment? Harder.”

“Oh, you fucking asked for it.”

She cried out, again in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he fucked her harder and harder. Each time he slammed into her she laughed and begged for him to go harder. It felt so wrong. And it felt so right. She never wanted it to end.

He panted and groaned in her ear with every thrust. “Fuck, fuck, doll. Meghan...”

She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him in closer, but he reached back and yanked her legs off. “Not now, doll.”

And suddenly he jerked out of her, making her gasp and leaving her feeling strangely empty. He grunted as several ropes of thick, hot pearly goo exploded all over her belly. She glanced up at him, trying not to giggle at the sight of him with one hand wrapped around himself, steadying himself with the other, eyes half closed, tongue poking from between his lips.

Negan sat back, panting, watching her. He grinned and rolled off the bed, leaning to kiss her shoulder briefly. She watched his fine ass disappear into the bathroom and then splayed herself on the bed. Ugh, she really needed to get up before the goop dried itself on her and just fucking became impossible to wipe off. 

In the bathroom she heard the water running and a wet towel slapping against skin. She was about to roll her own ass out of the bed when Negan came out of the bathroom holding a towel. He sauntered over to her, smiling as he tenderly, almost lovingly, wiped her belly clean. She shuddered at the cold towel on her stomach, but his kisses warmed her up.

He tossed the towel in the corner and climbed over her into bed, throwing the covers over both of them. She sighed as he pulled her close, and she curled into his arms, letting the endorphins float over her. Letting them lull her into a false net of safety and security.

“I feel like an idiot,” she said finally.

“Mmm?”

“Birth control. Didn't think of it,” she said, resting her chin on his chest. He stroked her hair back from her forehead.

“Yeah, it's fine doll. We'll fucking figure something out. No babies.”

“No babies,” she agreed.

She lay her head on his chest, eyes closed as she thought about Lori and Judith, about Maggie and her baby. Her heart contracted painfully. She'd always wanted to be a mother. Even more than a federal agent. Nayna just couldn't see herself bringing a baby into the world with anyone other...It didn't matter. She'd just have to content herself with mothering Judith. Suddenly she felt hollow and empty, though physically satisfied, though curled into Negan's arms. 

Nayna willed herself not to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome ;)


	21. Dear Diary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been doing the diary chapters as much as I planned. I'm not sure how I feel about them tbh. I like them and I don't. What do you guys think? Yes more diary chapters? No more diary chapters? Or only sometimes?  
> I love y'alls feedback. It's amazing. I love the fact that I can get instant (nearly) reactions to the story and see how people liked it or didn't or how they feel about certain things. I just want to say I adore every single comment you guys leave me. You all are amazing and you rock!

 

 

**I know I haven't written in a while. I've been in a funk since Carl went missing. Hard to believe that was only 3 weeks ago and suddenly it's summer.**

 

**Last night I slept with Negan. And lately I feel myself thinking and drifting more and more towards him. The real him he let me see when I was so sick. And I was right about him. From some of the things he said I can gather that he was a normal guy. Just like Rick. Just like Shane. Just like me. All regular people in the regular world. Though I think Rick and I were the only ones to actually kill someone before it all started. Self-defense of course, but still. It doesn't always sit on your soul any easier.**

 

**Rick and I have been slowly drifting apart for sometime. Being back, it's easier to see. Granted he thought I was dead for two weeks, but even from before. The difference was startling. Or maybe I'm just projecting my own feelings out there. Probably since I've only seen him in the brief time it took to... I can't even think about what I did. It's horrifying, but what's worse is that I feel like justice has been served and there is a sick, grim part of me that is happy that I did it.**

 

**But my theory that Rick and I are drifting apart is based on him not returning my feelings for him and I'm trying to protect myself. I see that now. Especially since it seems that everyone knows, except him. It's better this way. I will always love Rick, but I can't go on this way. Rick will always be my best friend, but there needs to be a wall.**

 

**As I write this, Negan is snoring softly beside me. Not the first time we've shared a bed, but the first time I've woken up to find another man in my bed who...I don't know...who I didn't invite, but practically pushed?**

 

**After the incredible sex last night, I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Really looked for a long time and the only face I saw in the mirror was Shane's. That's right I saw Shane's face for the first time in nearly two and a half years. His face after he'd killed Otis and was forced to wear Otis's clothes. I know exactly how he felt. Not then, but now.**

 

**I cut my hair. With Negan's help of course. He came into the bathroom to piss just as I was taking my scissors out. He protested, but I insisted telling him to either cut my fucking hair or get the fuck out of my house. Of course I was kidding, but Negan wasn't too amused. Whatever. Joke not a dick, man.**

 

**And it's weird. It hasn't been this short since I was in college. It hits my shoulders, flatters my face, but it's weird. I'm so used to the heavy weight of my braid that I keep shaking my head back and forth, feeling odd when it's so easy. I'm probably going to just put it in a ponytail, but still. I like it.**

 

**Negan told me he hated short hair on women. And to him short is above shoulders. Whatever, it's for me and he can go fuck himself sideways if he thinks I'm doing anything to my appearance to appease him. And I fucking told him so. He just laughed at me, kissed me, squeezed my tits and went to piss.**

 

**Honestly, I'm not sure of the extent of my feelings for him. There is something brewing. I can feel it, but I don't want another one-sided love affair. And of course I'm fucking obligated to spend time with him. Not that it's a huge hardship, considering he's very sexy and he...he actually treats me as if he finds me sexy too. Neither Rick nor William ever made me feel that way. Funny since William was my fucking husband.**

 

**Of course granted much of our relationship is built on sexual tension and sarcasm, but still, it's nice to feel wanted. Especially since Spencer...**

 

**I can't even think about that. Can't think about how I feel like I would not have been missed or mourned by anyone but Rick. Maybe the Atlanta group and Maggie. Maybe. I know I'm not always the most patient person and I can be a huge bitch when I'm stressed. I always try to be extra nice and extra sweet but it never works that way. And it makes me feel like a horrible person. One who doesn't deserve....**

 

**It doesn't matter. I'm alive and here now and I suppose that should be enough. But surviving may be fighting, but it's not living.**

 

**Dum Spiro, Spero...**

 

 

 


	22. The Preparations We Make

MAGGIE

Everyone was at church. Except her. She was busy puking her guts up in the toilet. Today the baby hated cucumbers. Yesterday, all she'd wanted were cucumbers. 

If she didn't hurry up, she was going to miss the meeting after. Glenn was already there and he promised to fill her in, but Maggie wanted to be there herself. She wanted to hear what Rick had to say, wanted to know why they were just bowing down to the Saviors. They'd been through so much that the Saviors didn't seem too terrifying a threat.

The door opened and a soft voice called out. “Maggie? It's Nayna. Are you home?”

“Just a minute,” Maggie called back and flushed the toilet. Below she heard sweet baby giggles mingled with Nayna's laughter. It made her smile. Nayna hadn't laughed in so long.

Maggie wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist and stood up, holding the wall for support. She'd heard morning sickness should be over by now. Whoever told her that, lied. Big time. Maggie slowly creaked down the stairs to find Nayna gnawing on the left over cucumbers. Her stomach rolled again and she closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her belly. No, no...no more throwing up. That's enough.

Nayna put Judith on the couch and crossed over to put an arm around Maggie. She was grateful for the help and she willingly let Nayna guide her to an overstuffed chair in the living room.

“You okay?” Nayna asked, bending down to look at Maggie. Her breath smelled like cucumbers and Maggie gagged.

She bent over and pressed her head between her knees. Nayna's footsteps pattered away towards the kitchen and Maggie heard the freezer door opening and the kerthunking of ice hitting a glass and then the sound of the tap water clinking in the icy glass. Nayna's footsteps pattered back into the sitting room, and Maggie could hear her swirling the glass. Her mouth watered at the thought of ice water. Maggie nearly giggled. It was ridiculous. Ice water and cucumbers. Oh god, she was going to puke again. 

But the nausea passed and when she sat up again, it hit her. “Your hair!”

Nayna smiled a little, and smoothed her hand over her hair. “Yeah. I wanted to try something else. Gets boring having the same hair for three years straight.”

“I like it, but it looks a little off,” Maggie said, squinting at the jagged lines. She took the glass Nayna held out for her and sipped on the water.

Nayna fiddled with the ends of her hair and shrugged. “Oh well.”

Judith bounced on the cushions clapping her hands. Both Nayna and Maggie smiled down at her as she wriggled with delight.

“Nay! Nay!” 

“Judy-booty,” Nayna teased back, looking softer than Maggie had seen her in a while. Nayna was still subconsciously fiddling with the choppy ends of her dark hair.

“If you come by after the meeting, I'll fix it for you.”

Nayna's brow furrowed. “What meeting?”

Maggie gulped another drink of water. Who knew ice water would be so delicious? “Rick didn't tell you about the meeting after church?”

“No one told me.”

Well shit. The hurt in her eyes was unmistakable, but she didn't say anything. Maggie stood up, albeit slowly and touched Nayna's shoulder. She flinched and slipped from Maggie's grip, turning to scoop a squirmy Judith up from the couch. Maggie closed her eyes. If she wasn't feeling so sick she'd know how to get through Nayna's veneer. 

She cleared her throat and opened her eyes, looking at Nayna standing in the silhouette of the glass door. “Did you need something, Nayna?”

Maggie gazed into her heart-shaped face and dark eyes and saw the loneliness behind them. But Nayna only gave her an unconvincing smile and a soft shake of her head before slipping out of the house, making Maggie feel worse than before. And the ice water was threatening to make a reappearance. Maggie sighed and dragged herself back up the stairs to hug the porcelain throne. 

 

It was past noon when she slid into the pew next to Glenn, who rubbed her thigh. “You okay?”

Maggie nodded. “Yeah. Baby doesn't like food or water anymore.”

Glenn smiled and moved his hand to her belly. “I'll tell him to be good to his Mama.”

Maggie clasped her hands over his and whispered. “So what's going on?”

Glenn shook his head. “A lot of melodramatic theatrics, mostly. People are pissed at Nayna. Pissed at Rick. Pissed at Negan. Pissed at Jesus. Pissed at everything.”

Glenn nodded towards the front center pew, where Jesus from the Hilltop was sitting.

“At Jesus? What for?”

Glenn shrugged. “If it wasn't for him we wouldn't be in this mess, according to Bruce.”

“Who's Bruce?”

Glenn gestured to a large man in the back. “The dude who works construction with Abraham.”

“Ah,” Maggie nodded and turned her attention back to Rick, who was listening politely to another woman talking. She couldn't remember the woman's name to save her life. She was prattling on about not having enough toothpaste because of the Saviors.

One by one people came forward and complained about the hardships because of the Saviors. There were no drugs, there was little food, the hot water didn't last as long as it used to, there was a shortage on clothing and shoes, and the list went on and on and on. And Rick stood there and listened to it all without saying a word until the last complaint was uttered. Even Maggie was fed up by the time they were done. The Alexandrian's were still soft and spoiled.

Rick glanced around at all the curious faces. “I know you all are wondering why I called this meeting today. And it's because I want to have an open forum for discussion. I know there is unrest and some of you are concerned and I'd like to address them. I know it's been a difficult few months for everyone and things aren't going like we planned. But I'd like to remind everyone, life rarely goes as planned. Even before. We have to make the best with what we have. Things will get better, I promise, we just have to knuckle down.”

There was a ripple of dissent from everyone. Glenn shifted beside her and Enid crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap. 

“Look, Rick,” Abraham stood up, a few rows down. They all turned to look at him. “I think we need to take a stand against this bastard.”

There were a few cries of “Here, here!” and murmurs of agreement. Father Gabriel frowned at the language, but stood peacefully at the front of the church, beside Rick.

Rick sighed. “We don't have the numbers, Abraham. We don't have the supplies. And look--”

“--I know you're worried about Nayna but...Sometimes even the best of men have to be sacrificed in a time of war,” Abraham said, rolling his shoulders.

“That's not going to happen,” Rick said, locking his jaw. “And it's not up for further discussion. I don't care if you all hate me. I don't care if you feel like I'm an asshole—sorry Father—I simply don't fucking care. I have to put the needs of the group first. And we need stable footing.”

“How are we going to find stable footing if Negan is taking our supplies?” Sasha cried.

“We will get there. Negan said it himself—eventually it'll all even out. For now, I need everyone here to trust me. I am doing what's best for the group,” Rick said, leaning back on the altar. Father Gabriel winced.

“And you think what's best for the group is not only giving away half our shit, but selling out your best fucking friend to Negan?” Sasha snapped.

The entire church went silent. Beside her, Glenn tensed up, leaning forward, his fingers crushing hers. Maggie swallowed hard and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

Rick blinked at Sasha and his gaze flickered over every person in the pews.

But Sasha wasn't finished. “Funny how she's not here to complain. Funny how anytime someone asks a question about her, you interrupt or move on to the next person.”

Rick looked down at his shoes, gathering his thoughts. Then he looked back up at everyone. “I did what I did to protect everyone. Her included. And I knew she would say yes. Because she wanted to protect the rest of you. Don't you get it? Nayna is trying her damnedest—sorry Father—to make sure we have a life here. I'm trying to make sure we have a life worth living. We can't do that if we're dead. The needs of the group as a whole come before the needs of one person. I know this. Nayna knows this. It's what we've come to accept as leaders. We're the ones making these decisions, and you're the ones hating us for it.”

He pushed himself off the altar and stepped forward, throwing a hand in the air. “And I'm sure many of you are wondering about Spencer and punishment. Well, that's not going to happen. Spencer deserved to die. He tried to kill her. He threw her in the river. And before another person speaks, Daryl found evidence of that. There were only two sets of footprints at the riverbank. Spencer's story did not match to the scene of the crime. Then his story changed. Twice. The Saviors account matched both Nayna's and Daryl's separate accounts. Now was it right, the way she handled it? No. Did she make a mistake? Yes. And everyone who knows Nayna knows she will carry that for the rest of her life. She will not carry that lightly. Now besides Nayna and Spencer and Negan, does anyone else have any concerns? If not this meeting is over and you're free to leave.”

Glenn leaned over and whispered. “Rick asked us to stay. You, me, Jesus, Sasha, Abraham and Daryl. Semi-private meeting.”

Maggie grimaced. She couldn't see this going well at all. Her stomach rolled as she shifted, a combination of the ice water and the anxiety and she lifted a hand to her mouth. Glenn rubbed her shoulders encouragingly as people began to file out past them.

Once the church was empty Rick nodded at Father Gabriel who closed and locked the doors behind them, suddenly blocking out all the light from before. Jesus, Daryl, Abraham and Sasha joined Maggie and Glenn in the middle pew. Rick knelt on the bench in front of them, elbows hanging off the back, looking at the six of them.

“So, I'm guessing you guys want to know the real plan,” Rick said, before Sasha opened her mouth.

“The real plan?” Abraham raised a bushy brow. “Exactly what the bitch nuts are you talking about?”

Rick grinned. “You guys didn't really think we were going to just roll over and drool for Negan did you?”

Glenn raised a brow. “Michonne know about this?”

Rick nodded. “She's on guard duty right now, but yes, she does.”

Jesus smiled. “I'm glad you're deciding to take a stand.”

“Well, we need people from Hilltop. And we need to know how many outposts Negan has. We killed at least thirty of his men at one outpost, and I know you guys were dropping shit off at another too, right?”

Jesus nodded. “There are at least three that we know of. But the problem is we don't know where Negan's home base is, how many people there are, etc.”

Rick grinned even wider. “Thanks to Nayna and Carl, I'm pretty sure we not only have a good idea of the location, but of how many people are at the home base.”

Maggie raised her brows. This was certainly news. She sat forward, slowly to ease the sloshing in her belly. “How many? And what kind of people? Not all of Negan's people are going to be fighters. Otherwise, why would they call themselves the Saviors?”

“I talked to Nayna the other night--”

“--you mean after she was done fucking Negan?” Sasha cut in, still stung from earlier.

Father Gabriel sighed. “Please, can we abstain from profanity in the church?”

“Sorry, Father,” both Rick and Sasha mumbled.

“You were saying?” Maggie said.

“From what Carl told me, most people living at the base are regular people. Workers. He said it was some kind of factory. Said he counted at least thirty normal people and more than a few fighters,” Rick said, clearing his throat. “He also mentioned Negan lives with five women. Called his wives. You know about any of that?”

Jesus shook his head while Maggie and Sasha wrinkled their noses in disgust. Daryl remained stone-like, immobile, his eyes searching Rick's face. 

Abraham snorted. “Sick fucker.”

Again Father Gabriel sighed and Abraham muttered, “Sorry.”

Glenn rubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, that's good, but do we know where it's located?”

“Nayna said she had a pretty good idea. She confirmed Carl's suspicions of it being a factory and pointed out the general direction. If we look at a road map for factories that could be within three hours of here—Nayna said maybe forty miles away at the very best. Most likely 30—anyway we can significantly narrow the location down. With this information, and any knowledge of the outposts, we could launch an attack right on the base. But we have to time it exactly right. And yes, it means we have to hunker down for a little longer and deal with Negan. But I promised before, things will get better and we will rid ourselves of Negan. This is our home and we won't go down without a fight.”

Maggie leaned forward and grasped Rick's elbow. “I'm proud of you. And I'm sure my dad would be too.”

“Thank you Maggie, that means a lot to me,” Rick smiled.

Glenn looked uneasily at Maggie and her belly. He sighed. “Can we afford to get into war? We don't have nearly the numbers. How many men can you promise us, Jesus?”

“Twenty. Maybe twenty-five if I stretch it.”

Glenn nodded. “Well, we've gone against worse odds.”

“We have. And we can do this,” Rick said looking at all of them. He stopped at Abraham. “And we will do this and get everyone out alive. Everyone.”

Abraham nodded. “I didn't say that to make you mad Rick. You know, as well as I do, that Nayna would give up her left nut to keep this place safe, not to mention her life.”

Maggie glanced at Father Gabriel who rolled his eyes, having given up asking them not to curse. She smiled to herself and squeezed Glenn's hand. “We're all behind you, Rick. We always have been....But...”

Guilt flooded her. “Does Nayna know of this plan?”

The red flush of shame crept up Ricks face. He shook his head. “This is on a need to know basis and right now her job is to keep Negan happy and stupid. She's aware of that.”

“You sure?” Maggie winced. “I saw her today and I hadn't realized you wanted to keep the meeting a secret and I let it slip.”

“Maggie....” That time it was Glenn sighing at her. “Why would you do that?”

“I didn't know. She came to see me with Judith. Think she wanted some company or something, but she left right after I mentioned the meeting...Rick you need to talk to her. She needs you right now. You're the only one who knows how to get through her shield.”

“I think the less I'm around, the better off she'll be. It's better this way. For both of us,” Rick said quickly.

Maggie and Glenn shared a look. Shortly before Michonne and Rick became an item, shortly before Negan crept into the picture, they'd bet when Nayna and Rick would get together. It was a pity neither of them realized the extent of their feelings. 

“I'll talk to her,” Daryl grunted. “She talks to me. Sometimes.”

“Thanks Daryl.”

“So, what's the plan?” Sasha asked.

Jesus leaned forward, grinning. “Rick, I think it's time you met Ezekiel.”


	23. The Connections We Forge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is finally over for the semester! Yay, more time for writing. Also, plenty of smut because I feel guilty for the slow burn, so enjoy that. Thirdly, I sat down and actually outlined the rest of the story. I never do that, so I'm fairly excited to have a direction I'm really going aside from Nayna's mental instability. And lastly, I'd been kicking an idea around in my head--would anyone be interested in reading a prequel thing to this? Maybe outlining the last four years up to the wolves attacking Alexandria. I'm wondering if there would be enough interest for me to go ahead and write it.  
> Also thanks for the feedback on the diary chapters. Much appreciated and I will litter them as I see fit then! I love you guys, you make this exciting for me.

NAYNA

Years of sleeping in the open taught her to feel a presence, even in the deepest of dreams. That instinct had not faded, even though they'd been living in Alexandria for nearly six months. It was that instinct that woke her up midday, even after a long night of watch. That instinct also told her it wasn't someone from Alexandria. They would have made their presence known. 

Though it was day, the room was darkened by the shades, and she could only see shadows and the outlines of the furniture in the bedroom through half-slitted eyes. If she turned her head to look at her would-be attacker, she'd give away her only advantage, so she stayed as still as possible. She inhaled deeply, as if she were still asleep and the familiar smells of leather and mint. Though she couldn't quite place it.

Even in her sleepy, half awake state she knew how to pretend to be asleep and reach for the knife under her pillow. She was thrown off when the knife wasn't there. And then she remember Spencer had kicked it into the river. Asshole. Great, now she was half naked and nearly defenseless. Well, she had her fists and feet, but she had a feeling this person in her house was big. And male. 

A hand clamped on her shoulder and she sprung into action, swinging the heel of her hand at her attacker. There was the satisfying sound of skin slapping on skin, but she realized she'd barely scraped his nose.

A very familiar voice roared. “What the flying fuckballs? Holy fucking fuck. God fucking asshole fuckers.”

And then she placed the smells. Oh shit. Negan. Nayna scrambled away from his flailing fists and she snapped on the light to see him leaning on the bed on one arm, holding his nose, tears running down his face. She had the hysterical urge to giggle, but she pinched her lips shut and just watched him, furiously swiping his face. Holy fuck, she'd punched Negan in the face! Half of her wanted to run to Rick and laugh with him and half of her actually felt really bad.

He glared over at her. “What the fuck are you doing fucking staring at me? Fucking hell, go get me a fucking towel. Make sure I'm not fucking bleeding. Move your fucking ass!”

Nayna went ass over teacup out of bed, but hardly felt the carpet burns on her knees as she sprang right up, launching herself into the bathroom for warm, wet towels. When she came back, Negan was sitting on her bed, looking at the ceiling with his forefinger and thumb pinching his nose. She went to pat the towel on his face, but he yanked it out of her hand.

“I don't fucking trust you,” he snapped, sounding far more pissed than she'd ever heard him before.

“Excuse me?” she asked, annoyed. 

She narrowed her eyes when Negan snorted angrily and said, “You punched me in the fucking face!”

“You don't trust me? I so beg your fucking pardon, Mr. Let-Me-Lean-Over-Your-Bed-While-You-Sleep-And-Scare-You-Shitless-Man,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her breasts and raising a single eyebrow at him. “And I didn't hit you that hard you big, fucking baby. When I actually mean harm, I draw blood or death.”

“It's the middle of the fucking day. Why are you fucking asleep?” He asked in a rather nasally voice. As annoyed as she was, she had to bite her lips to keep from giggling at the absurdity. It was hard to stay mad at him.

“I was on guard duty all night, asshole.”

“Fuck you very much,” he muttered. 

Nayna rolled her eyes and stepped directly in front of him.

Negan snorted again and looked over at her. She suddenly became aware of her state of dress. Not that he hadn't seen her naked. Twice. But she still wasn't used to it. Nayna tugged the tank top over her midriff, but it didn't quite meet the top of the panties she was wearing, leaving a swatch of skin exposed. She liked the look in his eyes, however. Lustful, hungry. She unconsciously took a step towards him and he stroked one hand down the side of her hip, sending delightful shivers over her skin. His hand cupped her ass and he squeezed, his anger subsiding at her near nakedness. And so was hers. She wanted to pull away, but the hand kneading her ass felt so good.

He tossed the towel into the corner and placed his other palm, flat on her belly, sliding his hand up her shirt to stroke one of her breasts. Nayna forgot her temporary annoyance, the giggles, everything but his hands on her and she felt her heart pumping rapidly in her chest. Negan grinned, his anger forgotten as well, and he leaned forward to press his lips against her throat.

“Why aren't you fucking wearing the fucking panties I gave you?” He asked, snapping the waistband of the blue cotton panties she had on. He squeezed her breast as the same time, making her suck in her lip to keep from crying out.

Her resolve to not cry out weakened as he pinched and rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Nayna moaned when he planted a sweet, suckling kiss on her collarbone. “I don't want to mess them up. I'm saving them.”

“For what?” He growled against her clavicle.

Nayna nearly cried as he stopped pinching and twisting her nipple. “You.”

He licked his way up to her ear. “You know I'm going to have to fucking punish you for this, right?”

She laughed with wild anticipation, the already budding heat growing between her thighs. “Punishment? Like last time?”

“You're not supposed to like being punished, harlot,” he murmured, nipping her earlobe.

“Fuck you,” she laughed a little breathlessly, as she came to cradle his head between her hands.

“You are a slut. I only had to fuck you once and you're already in heat, panting for my thick juicy mea--”

“--please say something other than meat-stick. Don't ruin the fantasy.”

Negan laughed. “This is almost fucking worth getting punched in the face for, doll. I need a good solid blow job after that fucking amount of abuse.”

She giggled. “Well, next time flick the lights or something, or don't grab me. It's not exactly smart to grab a girl who has had to sleep in the middle of Walker infest fields.” 

“Fine by me doll. Get on your fucking knees.”

Nayna looked down at his red nose. “How are you horny right now? You look like you should be on the front of Santa's sleigh delivering Christmas presents.”

Negan pinched her hipbone. “And you fucking look like you should be on a Sarah McLaughlin commercial with your scrawny ass and big sad eyes. I think your titties are smaller than I remember. Don't they feed you?”

She furrowed her brow and spoke in the driest tone she could manage. “Well, someone is stealing half of our shit, so it's a little hard to fucking put on weight.”

“Too much fucking talking, not enough sucking,” he growled and pulled her in for a kiss. 

She kissed him back and sighed when he withdrew his hand from her shirt. He roamed her mouth with his tongue for a bit, getting her nice and fiery. Negan pulled back and put both hands on her shoulders, pushing her down. She obliged, lowering herself to her knees in front of him, looking up at that lecherous grin on his face. It made her feel both nervous and sexy at the same time.

Nayna swallowed her shyness, reminding herself they'd slept together not even two weeks past. And this wouldn't be the last time either. Half of her was curious and the other half nervous. She and William had been totally mismatched when it came to sex and even though she hadn't been a virgin for many years, Negan made her feel like one.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?”

She giggled nervously and Negan snorted, reaching up to stroke her hair and then her face. He sighed when she didn't make another move.

“You don't want to fucking do this, do you doll?”

Her playful shyness disappeared, replaced with shame. She shook her head and stared down at the floor. “It's not that...I just...I feel stupid right now.”

He tilted her chin up so she was looking into those gorgeous hazel eyes. Understanding eyes. He smiled, a sincere smile, not his usual salesman smile. “Doll, you are not fucking stupid.”

“I'm so bad at it,” she confessed, feeling her face heat up. She couldn't meet his gaze anymore. It was true. She was terrible at it and William never let her practice, preferring regular sex. Often William made her feel like a failure. Something Nayna didn't like to admit, even to herself.

“Doll,” he murmured, stroking his thumb across her lower lip. “Who told you that?”

“My husband,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Negan shook his head at her, still stroking her lip. “Sounds like a shitty fucking husband to say something like that to his wife. Even I don't say shit like that to any of my fucking wives. Here's the deal. You suck my dick, I'll judge whether or not you're bad at it. If you are, I'll teach you,” he grinned. “And I would not mind you using me for practice. Not at all. If you're not bad, then I won't mind if you use me for even more practice. Stop being so fucking insecure.”

She couldn't help but smile a little, despite the mention of his wives. Negan and all his big talk was telling her to stop being insecure? He must be the pot today. Though thinking of other women holding him, fucking him sent a pang of jealousy through her heart. The same kind she felt when Michonne kissed Rick. She had to stop thinking about Rick.

Negan bent down and kissed her again. He stood up and traced her lips with his finger, grinning. “Open your mouth, you fucking slut.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, meeting Negan's lusty gaze. She took a deep breath in and decided to trust him, letting the fire between her legs take over. 

Nayna opened her mouth and Negan wiggled his forefinger inside. 

“Suck on it.”

She obliged, letting his slide his finger back and forth inside of her mouth. How could something so unsexy be so erotic? His curled up, rubbing the roof of her mouth and she sighed. Nayna wrapped her fingers around his wrist and ran her tongue along the pads of his finger.

Negan grinned. “Oh, I don't think you'll be bad at it. Not.at.all. Now, I'm going to take my fucking pants off and you are going to worship my fucking dick. Got it, dollface?”

She gave another nervous giggle and Negan slid his finger from her mouth and stroked her cheek before unfastening his belt and trousers. Nayna reached up and helped him pull them down, giggling yet again when he sprang out at her.

“Stop laughing or I'll think you're fucking laughing at my dick, doll.”

“I'm not, I swear,” she giggled again.

“Doll, you did this last time too,” he grunted, but he wore an amused expression.

She scooted back and inhaled deeply. It's not like she hadn't touched him before! Why was she so fucking nervous all of a sudden? She was being stupid, regardless of what Negan said to her. 

Nayna was about to reach for him, when Negan grabbed her wrist and did it for her, wrapping her fingers around the base of his cock. He pumped her hand up and down until she was doing it for herself and he grunted in appreciation, letting her go. 

She leaned forward, still grasping him, and wrapped her lips around the tip of his dick. He let out a long breath and his eyes fluttered shut. Nayna pushed her tongue past her mouth, licking and rubbing her tongue over every surface beyond her lips. Negan groaned and his hand searched for her shoulder. He found the strap of her tank top and he shoved it down. Nayna wriggled out of it, not breaking contact with him, giving Negan free access to her breasts.

The feeling of stupidity faded, slowly replaced by desire. The desire to please and the desire to be pleasured in return grew between her thighs, and she shifted, wishing he would touch her, tease her, torment her.

“Doll,” Negan panted. “You gotta move your fucking mouth. You know, blow job. Not mouth hand job.”

Closing her eyes, she began to bob her head up and down in a jerky awkward fashion. He put his hand on the back of her head, guiding her into a nice rhythm, throwing his head back and groaning each time he disappeared into her mouth. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to get lost in the music of his moans. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he panted and reached down to play with one of her tits, making her moan around him, and eliciting another groan from him.

“Oh, fucking fuck, doll. Don't fucking stop. Fuck me,” Negan grunted and glanced down at her with half-lidded eyes. Eyes filled with want and pleasure. She squirmed, looking back up at him, with most of him in her mouth. 

Her own desire was too much for her to handle and she reached into her panties and began to touch herself to the sounds of his groans.

“Are you fucking...Fuck, doll that is fucking sexy. You rub your fucking pussy for me,” he said and thrust himself deeper in her mouth. She willed herself not to gag, instead she closed her eyes and let him fuck her face for a moment, before pushing herself back.

While she caught her breath she pumped her hand up and down, enjoying Negan's heaving chest, looking just as sexy as she remembered, red nose and all. She continued to touch herself to the sound of Negan's grunts and groans.

This time she leaned forward and took as much of him in her mouth as she could, rubbing herself furiously as she tried not to gag. He moaned, loudly, tangling his fingers in her hair.

Suddenly Negan jerked himself out of her mouth. She recoiled and squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating what was to come...all over her face. Instead, he put his hands under her arms and pushed her face first into the bed, savagely pulling her panties around her ankles. He dipped his finger between her lips and chuckled at the wetness.

Negan bent over to whisper in her ear.“You like sucking cock? Mm good, now I fucking know what to do with your pretty mouth when you won't shut the fuck up.” 

He positioned himself at her entrance and she could feel him pushing in, slowly. Her fingers curled into the sheets and she was panting with lust. He moved too slow for her liking and she jutted her hips backwards, taking in all of him, making him growl. She loved it when he growled at her. Nayna grinned wickedly and looked over her shoulder at him.

“I can't wait for you, forever, Joe,” she smirked.

“If that's how you want it, dollface, then by all fucking means, please, fuck me.”

 

While Negan showered in the master bath, Nayna padded down the hall and filled the sink with lukewarm water. She fluffed out a towel and a wash cloth and began to wipe herself down. Ever since her little swim in the Potomac, she couldn't stand being fully submerged in water. And the rapid pulses of the shower reminded her of the current. It didn't matter if she stood still or sat still. The panic came whenever she heard the water. It had taken her many many trials to be able to stand the sound of the sink faucet. 

When she felt she was clean enough, she slipped back into the bedroom and wiggled into the underwear Negan had given her. Behind her Negan whistled and she giggled, but she kept pawing through her drawers for clothes.

“I fucking love this shit on you. I have to admit, though, doll...It'd look even better if you gained weight. You're too fucking skinny.”

Nayna looked down at herself and realized Negan was right. She could see her hipbones for fucks sake. And her ribs. 

“Well, like I said, someone is taking our shit,” she said, turning back to him and crossing her arms over her bare breasts. Negan's eyes lowered to her nipples for a moment and then he grinned back up to her.

“Well, what if I made sure you got...extra rations...I hear meat is especially fattening,” he teased, advancing on her.

He only had one of her towels wrapped around his hips, and he was still damp from the shower. She bit her lip, having the urge to run her fingers down his belly, to bury her face in his chest hair and just inhale his own scent. To just be close to him.

Nayna tipped her head back when he reached her, and her eyes fluttered closed as his mouth covered hers. She sighed with contentment as he pulled her against his chest. 

He chuckled. “Once wasn't enough for you?”

Nayna rested her cheek against his chest. “It's never enough, Joe.”

He said nothing, only stroking his hand down her hair. Nayna let him hold her for a long time. How long she didn't know, but she didn't really care. It had been weeks since Rick had even touched her. She savored the affection Negan was giving her, allowing it to go to her head and make her feel stupid again.


	24. The Things We Realize

RICK

 

“I didn't know you'd left,” Nayna said shifting Judith higher on her chest.

Rick shut the door behind him and grunted as he lowered himself to the floor beside her. The swirling steam made it harder to breathe for him, but easier for poor snotty Judith. Rick smiled at the two of them, Nayna with the snot dripping down her chest and Judith curled against Nayna's bare skin.

“Supply run,” Rick said, clearing his throat and reaching over to fluff the hair from Judith's face. He couldn't meet Nayna's eyes. She'd know he was lying to her. Instead he looked past her, over to the running shower. He'd never lied so much to her in all the time he'd known her. She hadn't brought up the meeting, and Rick almost wished she had. He preferred poking the bear than the grim look she wore when around him. 

And he longed to ask for her advice, or better yet he wished she had come with them. He still didn't know what to make of Ezekiel, though Morgan and Carol liked him. And Rick was grateful to Ezekiel for taking Morgan and Carol in. It was a debt he couldn't repay. One Ezekiel waved off. Truth be told, Rick liked the guy, but wasn't sure what to make of the whole 'King Ezekiel' bit. If only he could talk to Nayna...But she already had so much on her plate and the last thing Rick wanted to do was burden her more. He never realized how much he depended on her judgment until he thought he'd lost her. Even now he hadn't fully regained her and he didn't know if he ever would get her back. Would she always wear that distant look, sliding between the here and the now and whatever it was she saw when she faded away? 

Rick reached out and tucked a damp lock of hair behind her ear and rub a bead of sweat from her upper lip. He wasn't sure he liked her new hair. It suited her, but it wasn't the Nayna he remembered. But the girl with the braid was gone, replaced with the woman of the unfocused eyes. It'd been a habit she'd always had, but more than ever he found her in her own little world. When he brushed his knuckles over her jaw, her eyes came blinking back into focus. Her chest heaved a little more than necessary and her eyes rolled back over to the shower. Rick thought he saw an instant of panic in them, but she blinked again and slid them back to his face.

“Just you and Jesus?” She asked, as if she hadn't been blanked out a moment before.

“Yeah. Just a quick thing,” he said, clearing his throat again.

She nodded absently, pressing her cheek to Judith's head. “I gave her some baby Tylenol earlier, but she's so clogged, I thought the steam would help. I couldn't find a humidifier at all, so...we're wasting water...but it's helping.”

Rick smiled guiltily. “Thank you, Nayna.”

“You don't have to thank me for loving your kids, Rick,” she panted.

He glanced down at his hands. She loved Carl and Judith so fiercely. Like Lori did. Goddammit he fucking hated himself. She didn't deserve all the shit she'd been put through. Rick slid closer and lowered his arm across her shoulders, inviting her to lean on him, to share her burdens with him. He didn't like the way she was breathing, as if it were laborious and arduous. 

She closed her eyes and let her head flop onto his shoulder, emitting a huge sigh. “You know you always clear your throat when you lie, Rick Grimes.”

Well fuck. He didn't know what to say, so he simply held her close, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. 

After a few moments the bathroom door opened and Carl poked his head in. He looked between the two of them on the floor and cocked his head to the side. “Do you guys need my help?”

Nayna opened her eyes and looked down at Judith. “Yeah, can you go put her down?”

Carl nodded and carefully lifted her into his arms. He snuggled her close and shut the door as he left the room, leaving Nayna and Rick sitting awkwardly on the floor. She closed her eyes, taking in several deep breaths.

She let her head fall back onto his shoulder, fingers curling around his wrist, holding on for dear life. “You've been keeping things from me, Rick.” 

“Yeah, but so have you....Hold on,” Rick said as he righted her and stood up to turn the shower off. He glanced back down at her and winced as her face pulled itself into a grimace with her lips pressed together and colored white as snow. He threw open the window letting in fresh air, and her eyes fluttered open. She gave him the first smile he'd seen on her face in weeks. 

“Better?” He asked, settling back down beside her.

She nodded. “The sound of the water. It's...hard for me to listen to, but I thought she needed it so bad.”

“Oh Nayna,” Rick whispered, feeling ashamed, feeling inadequate. If he had protected her better...But he hadn't, he could only slide his arm around her and pull her close again. He was grateful when she allowed him to hold her tight.

“What do you think I've been keeping from you, Rick?”

“What are you and Negan doing when he visits?”

Her cheeks turned cherry red as she frowned up at him. “What do you think Rick? He's taking advantage of his free access.”

Rick sighed. “I'm sorry.”

“It is what it is, it's not like we could have gotten out of it and I'd rather be his....whatever than him do what he did to the Hilltop's group. At least I know that I'm giving everyone a certain immunity. As long as we don't fuck up too bad, we should be okay.”

Nayna sat up and wiped a pearl of sweat from her forehead. She let her hands fall slack into her lap, and Rick's heart contracted at how utterly forlorn she looked. Luckily, though, she'd lost the sick, green look on her face, replaced with bright pink cheeks. Angry cheeks, but better than sick. He touched her jaw lightly and she turned her head away, staring at the shower.

“And what if we're not?”

She put her thumb to her mouth, gnawing on the nail, still not meeting his eyes. “I don't know, Rick.”

“You do know, you don't want to admit it.”

She turned her head slowly to look at him, with wide eyes. Fear filled eyes. “I am so confused and afraid, Rick.”

He stroked his knuckles down the side of her face. “Me too. You're not alone.”

She snorted. “I'm always alone, Rick. I've always been alone. And it's fine. At least I know I can rely on myself.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly. 

He was far more hurt by that comment than he should have been for Nayna was only speaking the truth. But it wasn't something he'd ever wanted to hear her soft voice say.

“You haven't been very reliable to me as of late, Rick.”

Another sting to his heart, making him angry this time.

He pulled his arm away from her. “And neither have you. Going off with Spencer was stupid.”

“I trusted him. You trusted him. We all did. It's not like I wandered off,” she snapped.

“There should have been more than two of you there.”

Nayna stood. “Oh I'm sorry, are you the fucking pot or kettle?”

Rick squinted up at her.

“You and Jesus. You and Morgan, out looking for Carol.”

“I just think your judgment has been off ever since Negan set--”

“--you mean after you sold me out to him,” she said coldly, narrowing her eyes at him.

Of course she'd throw that in his face. Goddamn her.

“You'd have done it anyway. Have you not forgiven me yet?” Rick snapped, standing up, towering over her.

But this time she looked him right in the eye. “No, I haven't and I don't think I ever will Rick. That's not exactly something I can come back from.”

Another pang of guilt. Would he ever forgive himself? Probably not. It was his fault, but dammit what else could he have done? Why couldn't she understand that? She knew what it was like to have to make these decisions. He didn't want to give her over to Negan, but what else was there? And the thought of losing her to that monster made him sick.

He grasped her shoulders. “Yes, you can. You will come back from this, Nayna. You have to,” his voice pleaded with her to understand. 

She tried to wrench free, but Rick didn't let go. Her fingers came up to grip his elbows. “I won't. I can't. This isn't going to end well. Someone I love is going to end up dead, Rick. Whether it's you or Negan. And it's going to break me.”

The news that she loved Negan roared through his body, sending his heart into contractions. How the fuck could she love him? How could she see any good in someone like him?

“You love Negan? You fucking love Negan? Are you joking?” He let his hands drop. He'd never had the urge to hit a woman before, but Nayna was coming close.

“No, I'm not joking Rick. But you're....you missed...” She whispered, biting her lip.

Rick threw his hands in the air. “This! This is why I don't trust your judgment anymore. You're too involved with him.”

“That's fucking rich coming from you of all people Rick. What am I supposed to do? Tell him oh no you can't fuck me because Rick said no? You know what that'd get me? A big ole fuck you and he'd probably kick your ass.”

He slammed his fist into the wall beside her, making her cower, slightly. “You're not supposed to develop feelings for him!”

She thrust her hands out, catching him off guard, sending him back two steps. “I can't help it!”

“Bullshit. Where is all your training?”

“Fuck you Rick. Fuck you. And your bad fucking decisions,” she tried to move past him, but his arm went out to the other wall, trapping her there with him.

He leaned into her face and hissed at her, “My bad decisions? You're the one who is so desperate to have someone love you, that you fall in love with the worst men possible. Why not fucking choose someone here?”

By then Nayna was breathing very hard, her eyes barely slits. “You are a fucking asshole, Rick Grimes. Screw you. I don't need this bullshit. I'm going home.”

“I thought you said you don't have a home anymore?” 

Now Rick was just trying to hurt her. She'd hurt him, though he couldn't quite put his finger on how or why it hurt him that she loved Negan.

“Am I exiled now? Should I pack my shit and leave? Go back to the Sanctuary? Because if that's what you want, I fucking will. I won't stand here and let you treat me like shit on your shoe,” she said, pounding her palm on his chest.

He towered over her again, his face mere inches from hers. “Stop acting like it then. I don't fucking want you to go. I want you here by my side. Fighting against Negan, not for him.”

And he did. He wanted her close. So close. He could taste her fruity breath, that's how close he was to her.

She shook her head sadly. “I don't know why you think I'm fighting for him and against you Rick. I'm on your side. I've always been on your side. Unlike you I can separate the good and the bad. I know Negan is not the ideal man. But he treats me right. Unlike you. He acts like he gives a shit, even under his sarcasm and nastiness and fuck you's.”

He blinked, stung. “I don't treat you right?”

“No, you don't. You take advantage of me. You always have and I've let you because....” She squeezed her eyes shut. “This is so stupid. Everyone knows except you. Everyone Rick. Your son knew and...”

She covered her mouth and nose with her hands, taking in several shaky breaths, and stepping back until her back hit the other bathroom wall. Her watery eyes never left his, even as she let her hands drop. “I've always been there for you. Always. And when I need you the most, you're having meetings without me. Doing things without me. Keeping secrets from me. I've held your hand when your wife died. I let you put the whole burden of the prison on me. On me! I stood strong while you sat and fucking cried and talked to dead people on the phone. I was there when you thought your daughter was dead. I was there in Terminus. I was there....I've always been there. And where have you been?”

Rick reached for her before he even realized it, but Nayna turned her face away, shaking her head violently. “Nayna...”

“Don't touch me. Don't make this any harder for me than it already is,” her voice was breaking, becoming high and squeaky.

Rick still came after her and grasped her waist, effectively pinning her to the wall. He didn't know why it was so important to hold on to her, to not let her go, but it was. She turned her face to look at the floor and a tear slipped down her cheek. He wanted to wipe it away, but he was afraid to let her go. So he leaned in and brushed it away with his nose. The smell of the coconut shampoo she loved so much filled his nose, along with the soft smell of the rose soap she used. Two smells that he had come to associate with her. His favorite smells, if he was honest with himself.

If he was honest with himself Nayna was right. He'd treated her like shit the past two months. The past two years really. And she still loved him regardless...And he loved her...Rick opened his eyes and looked at her, wincing as the pain on her face transferred to his heart. And he'd put it there. That haunted look. 

_If I had any suspicion he killed the woman I loved, especially in the manner that would have fucking terrified her the most—yes I fucking know about her fear of water—I would have beat the shit out of him, hog-tied him and thrown him into the fucking river myself._ Negan's words echoed in his head. _The woman I loved..._

He fucking loved Nayna. And everyone knew apparently. He was such a blind fucking idiot. 

He reached up with one hand and turned her face to his.

“I do love you Nayna. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” he whispered, nuzzling her face, trying to coax her to open up to him.

She squeezed her eyes shut and Rick tilted her head back as far as he could. And he claimed her mouth as his own. As he should have done so long ago.

Her small lips were so soft and he could taste the apple she'd eaten earlier. So sweet. Her lips parted in surprise and Rick was able to slip his tongue in her mouth with ease. He was soothing an ache he never knew he had before. And it only left him hungrier and wanting more. 

She belonged to him.

Her fingers grasped the front of his shirt, as the warm velvet of her tongue rose up to meet his own. Rick's hand slipped to the small of her back and he pulled her in, pressing her small, too-thin body against his.

And then she turned her face to the side, gasping and panting. “I can't. Rick...I...why couldn't you have...”

“I love you,” he whispered against her cheek.

“Too late,” she sobbed and pushed him away, sliding under his arm and yanking the door open. He watched her stumble down the hall and disappear down the stairs where he heard both Carl and Michonne calling out for her.

Rick sat down and buried his face in his hands. What had he done?


	25. Dear Diary

 

**Fuck Rick. Fuck him straight to hell. I am so beyond pissed at him, it's not funny. That night, after he kissed me, I ran straight home and packed my shit, I was so frustrated and upset and angry and...it hurt because I still have feelings for him. The kind of feelings I have for Rick won't go away, won't change overnight. And it's worse, knowing he feels the same way about me. And it's worse knowing that I'm starting to fall in love with Negan.**

**I unintentionally blurted it out to Rick. My own stupid fault. I'm just trying so hard to balance between everyone...I've been so stressed lately, my hair is falling out. I'm pretending not to notice because it's not a ton, yet, just strands and strands of it coming out whenever I wash my hair. I am the queen of avoidance. I won't even yell at Rick, even though he clearly deserves it. I can kill a Walker in the blink of an eye, defend my family by killing other men, but I can't fucking confront anyone to save my life. It's funny if I think about it and really, really fucking sad.**

**I take that back, I can confront people, just not the ones that mean the most to me. Fuck Rick. Even after all this, I still love him. We've been through too much, and I realize the scope of the situation. If I had said no....Well, we'd all have been fucked. And I still think my anger is misplaced a bit. Even though Rick has been acting like an asshole, I know he feels guilty and I know he's taking it out on me because he doesn't know what else to do. How do I know? I do the exact same shit to him. It's fucked up and yet...yet we love each other.**

**How can I love two men? How is it possible? Two men who are so fundamentally alike, that it's uncanny.**

**Rick still has a heart that he lets out, and he lets himself get close to people. Negan doesn't. That's the major difference between the two. Somewhere down the line Negan got burned too bad. I want to ask who, but I'm a little afraid of his temper, especially after being at the Sanctuary and hearing about THE IRON from Carl. And seeing it all over Dwight's face.**

**I've seen him turn his temper on his men, heard about his temper with his wives and I'm a little amazed I haven't goaded him into anything yet. Does that mean he cares about me? Probably. Maybe. I don't know and it's better not to think about anything too much. Thinking will get me in trouble every time.**

**I still haven't been able to work my way up to a shower. I panic every time I'm near the shower or the bath. It's torture and it's making me angry. I think everything in my life is making me feel angry. I have never felt so helpless in my life before. I've never been the damsel in distress and ever since we fucking got to Alexandria, that's all I've been feeling like lately. Especially with Rick and with Negan to a lesser extent. It's frustrating. I don't like not being able to count on myself.**

**Anyway, Negan isn't the type to develop feelings. And even when we're alone, there is still a part of him I cannot reach. Not that I've tried too hard, because I've been trying to keep a wall between us. That's a big fucking fail right there, considering I get stupid and happy around him. Fuck me. I'm dumb. And even though I keep going through the motions, I keep looking out for him, thinking I hear the whistle synonymous with his arrival. I'm like one of Pavlov's dogs, drooling at the sounding of the whistle. It's sick. And it's even sicker to realize I used to be that way when it came to Rick. I don't listen for Rick anymore because it's too painful.**

**It's been a week and I haven't so much as seen him. I know he's around because Michonne has been bugging me to come to dinner, to have us make up. Her intentions are good, but she has no idea and I hope she never finds out. Especially since I kissed back. Michonne deserves better than that. And hopefully Rick realizes it and gets his head on straight. He cares for her, a lot. But, like I said, I'm the queen of avoidance. And poor Judith is still sick. More avoidance because I don't want to try to replace Michonne as a mother-figure. What I said to Carl, about being the closest thing to a mom he has was out of line. I know that now. I just wanted it to be true, to be a little closer to Rick because I'm selfish like that.**

**Ugh, anyway, I'm so nervous, waiting for Negan this week. He's later than normal, and it's only making me more and more anxious to see him. And then I feel guilty. And then excited. And more guilt and the cycle goes on and on and on. I don't know what I'm going to say to him. Part of me wants to break down and just tell him everything, to share my burdens with him, but there is no telling how he'll react. So I might just let him have me and be content with that.**

 


	26. The Deals We Make

NAYNA

“Fuck me,” Negan groaned in her ear.

She giggled. “I am.”

“I fucking know doll. Fuck you feel fucking great,” Negan growled, pulling her face down for a kiss. 

She sighed into his mouth and slid her arms around his neck, squirming in his lap, making him groan again. They were utterly entwined with each other, his arms around her waist and her legs wrapped around his hips. Her bare breasts brushed the fur on his chest and his arms held her close. He bumped his hips upwards and she rode along, shuddering as he was forced deeper inside of her. They both groaned.

She buried her face into the crook of his neck, clinging to him and whimpering as he brought himself up to meet her again and again. He kept telling her how good she felt, but the truth was, he felt amazing inside of her. A giggle escaped her lips as he ran a finger up and down her spine, making her wriggle with delight and him groan with pleasure.

“Fuck yes,” he growled in her ear, pressing a dry kiss to the side of her face.

He coaxed her face from his neck and teased her tongue from her mouth, allowing his own tongue to dance with hers for a time. She coiled her fingers into his hair, whimpering as he pawed at her breasts. He squeezed one, then the other and then both at the same time. 

“Joe,” she whispered into the soft skin of his lips as he began to torment her by plucking at her nipples.

Nayna tangled her fingers in his hair, panting and writhing, trying to push his face down. He growled into her mouth and bucked his hips, as if he were punishing her. Deliciously punishing her. She clenched around him and was pleased with the gasp and then the subsequent groan.

“Fucking, fuck. Do it again,” he demanded. She smiled, squeezing again, enjoying the noises coming from him.

And then he kissed her again, roughly shoving his tongue in her mouth as he moved within her again. She whimpered as he reached around and dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her backside.

Negan broke away from her lips and trailed soft, suckling kisses down her neck and ran his tongue between her breasts. She arched her back as he took a soft pink nipple in his mouth, tonguing it until it grew hard before moving onto the next one. 

One of his hands left her backside and he stroked his fingertips along her hipbone and downwards until he was lightly caressing her clit. She whimpered and leaned back to give him better access, groaning as he hit that one spot inside of her. 

The light massaging of his fingers turned into rough fondling, and a low growling sound began to built in her throat as she moved her hips in rhythm with his fingers. It was a fucking awkward position for her, leaning back on her elbows, her upper body bent strangely across his legs. But holy fuck it meant he hit all the right fucking spots. 

“Fuck, Joe,” she panted, gazing up at him. “This is fucking amazing. Keep it up and I'm going to come.”

“That's right,” he growled. “You fucking come on my dick, doll. That's not a fucking request, you better fucking come, or else...”

Negan grinned, and Nayna bit her lip. He leaned forward and whispered “Punishment,” sending wisps of breath curling over her breasts as he added pressure to her clit, and lifted his hips all at once.

She found it to be too much for her and she unwillingly obeyed, though she would have liked to have drawn out the feeling. Her cries mingled with Negan's moans and they echoed throughout the brownstone. And probably into the street as well. 

Her arms gave way, but Negan was right there pulling her up so she was collapsing against him. He ran his hands along her sides, making her snicker and writhe. He chuckled wickedly in her ear before flipping her onto her back and falling in above her. 

He didn't hold back, slamming into her with enough force to rock the bed into the wall. She braced her hands on the headboard, feeling slightly silly and floaty as Negan came down on her again and again. He grasped her legs and wrapped them around his hips.

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, burying his face in her shoulder. “Meghan, fuck you're so fucking tight.”

“But, you're so big,” she whispered in her best sexy voice. Negan only laughed and lay his body so every inch of him was pressed against her.

She nuzzled his face from her shoulder and gave him her own toe-curling kiss, at which he growled appreciatively at her. Their tongues fought for dominance before she succumbed to his, allowing him to take control.

With every thrust, Nayna made little mewling noises that seemed to encourage him. He rocked his hips into her faster and faster. It didn't take him long to finish, groaning as his warmth coursed through her.

Another deep kiss and she let her legs slide from his hips, melting into the bed. 

“Fuck,” he growled and rolled off her and then off the bed, where he stumbled into the bathroom.

Nayna closed her eyes, trying not to giggle at the intense amount of emotion whirling about in her busy, busy brain. Warm and content and safe. Three things she hadn't felt in such a long time. And for some reason, Negan made her feel so very safe.

“Fuck, doll,” Negan said from the doorway. “You look so fucking enticing right now. If I could pop another woody, I'd be fucking you bloody right now.”

She laughed and opened her eyes, smiling at the hungry look in his eye. “I'm all fucked out right now, but maybe a little later.”

He snorted and wandered across the room. She rolled on to her belly, the better to watch his perfect, naked backside. He picked up random things and put them back down. 

“Any of this shit belong to you?”

“No, pretty much everything was already here when I moved in,” she said, rocking her chin side to side.

“Don't you have any fucking personal shit, doll?” He asked as he opened a drawer and pawed through her panties.

“Not really,” she lied, thinking about THE BOX under her bed. Somethings were just too personal to share. “Do you?”

Negan chuckled. “Lucille.”

Nayna laughed. “Well if you're counting her, my Sig and my bow are personal, I suppose. I've had them since before the beginning.”

Negan shuffled around and sat on the edge of the bed beside her. She rolled to her side and propped her head up on one elbow, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes. His own gaze flicked down to her bare breasts before roaming up to her face. She only laughed and rolled her eyes.

“I fucking love fucking you,” he murmured, running a finger along her jaw and over her lips.

She brushed her fingertips over the skin on his back. “Me too.”

He grinned down at her over his shoulder. “Mmm you love fucking you too? Fuck if I were a woman my hands would never fucking leave my titties. It a wonder they ever leave your fucking titties, doll.”

And he reached behind him to squeeze. She laughed and gave him a shot to the shoulder. “No, you idiot. I love you.”

His smile faded and there was a far away, detached look in his eye. He fell silent for a moment before clearing his throat to speak again. “It's been a long fucking time since a woman has said that to me and actually fucking meant it.”

She sat up, wrapping her arm about his waist, leaning against his shoulder. “What do you mean, Joe?”

He stared over her head, focused on the bed frame. “My wives tell me they fucking love me all the fucking time, but none of them fucking mean it. From you, I believe it, doll, even though I know you fucking have feelings for Rick the Prick.”

Her heart fluttered, realizing he was jealous of Rick. She moved closer to him and pressed her lips to his shoulder. “I won't lie to you. I do and...he finally admitted he feels the same way about me.”

Negan stiffened and his brow furrowed, but he said nothing. Thankfully, neither did he pull away. She stroked her knuckles along the toned muscles of his stomach, trying to physically reassure him.

Pressing her cheek into his shoulder, she sighed. “I told him it was too late because I love you.”

Only then did Negan look down at her with something akin to affection in his gaze. She turned her eyes to his face and smiled shyly at him.

“Come back with me,” he said suddenly, his hand coming across his body to grasp hers.

“What?” She sat up, raising her brows at him.

He put her knuckles up to his lips. “Come back to the Sanctuary and be one of my wives.”

She pulled her arm away from him and crossed her legs as she turned her face away. Her knee pressed into his side. “No.”

It pained her to say no to him, to deny him that, especially when he had just began to open himself up to her. But she couldn't. She couldn't leave Alexandria...It was home.

“Why the fuck not?” he demanded. She saw his shoulders and back tighten. Saw the quick flash of hurt in his eye before he covered it with anger.

Nayna glanced into his face. “Because, when you're here, you're all mine. I don't want to compete for your affection with five other women. I don't want to fucking share you with them.”

He thinned his lips together and they disappeared into his stubbly beard. “You already fucking do, doll.”

“I don't want to see them. Out of sight, out of mind,” she whispered as she shook her head.

“Doll...”

Dammit, he looked so...forlorn and so very kissable. She could feel her resolve weakening from the intensity of his hazel stare. But it made her heart soar, knowing he wanted her close. Knowing that there was something more to their romping than just sex.

She had to stay firm, though. “No. Plus, my family is here. No matter what, Rick is still my family. He's still my best friend. There is no way I could just walk away from him or anyone else here. We've been through so much together and I can't stand the thought of not being here to help protect this place. We've made it ours. I'm sorry, Joe, but I just can't.”

“You realize I can demand you fucking come back with me.”

“I know. But you won't.”

He glared down at her. “What fucking makes you think that?”

She smiled and ran her fingers along the bristly hairs of his beard. “Because, whether you want to admit it or not, you have feelings for me too, Joe Negan. And you care about mine.”

Negan frowned at her for a moment and then spread into that overly charming grin of his, dimples and all. “You still fucking belong to me, doll.”

“Oh, I know. If it makes you feel better, you can consider me your long distance wife,” she joked and Negan threw his head back, laughing at her. 

He twisted himself so he was facing her, his knee brushing hers, and his eyes searching her face as the laughter disappeared from his own. “Is that what you want, Meghan?”

She tilted her head to the side, letting him see the soft glowy smile she'd kept hidden from him. “Is what, what I want?”

“To be my wife.”

She twisted the bed sheets between her fingers, chewing on her inner lip. The part of her that loved Negan wanted to jump for joy and scream yes! but the rational part of her lay firmly in the absolutely fucking not camp. She fucking hated the fact that other women touched him, that he reveled in touching them, letting them please him. It fucking hurt her and she felt insulted. She also didn't like his temper, nor did she like the fact that he was a killer.

Unlike the Governor, there was nothing cold-blooded about him, though. She looked back up at him, at the hesitant expression on his face, though he was trying to look uninterested. His blood ran, hot hot hot, just like hers. And somewhere, buried deep inside him was a good man. And wasn't she a killer too? Hadn't she murdered men in their fucking beds? Hadn't she covered for Shane so many times? Hadn't they all become killers? Buried their old selves deep inside of them? The only pure one in the group anymore was Judith. Even Carl had stains.

The more she thought about it, the more she saw Negan's side. How hard it must have been to be in charge of complete assholes who didn't respond to anything but fucking fear. Men so incompetent at making things or foraging, they had to steal just to survive. How Negan built it from the ground up. She knew how hard it was to lead people who questioned every fucking move made. Especially when they didn't like it and couldn't see the whole picture.

And she wanted him. Mind, body and soul. More than she'd ever wanted anyone in her life, maybe even more than Rick. He was right, she belonged to him.

And finally her resolve weakened just enough. But she was going to do it on her terms. 

A smile crossed her lips. “I want you. Mind, body and soul, Joe.”

His brow twitched, but she put her fingers on his lips to silence him and went on. “I want you to belong to me as much as I belong to you. I'm not going to fucking ask you to give up your wives or the Sanctuary. That's not realistic and in the end you'd hate me for it. I understand that. I will learn to be okay with it. I still don't like it, but I am willing to do everything I can to be okay with it and that's all you can ask of me for now. But I want you. And I don't want you to take another wife after me. I want to be the last one. And I want you to stop taking so much of our shit. We can barely survive as it is. If you keep taking so much stuff, we're not going to last the winter and then you won't have anyone to trade with. We're busting our ass for you and Joe, it just feels like you're constantly spitting on us.”

Negan's breathing had quickened and his eyes darkened from hazel to a deep brown, almost as dark as her own. He still didn't speak, letting her have her turn. She could see the gears in his mind whirling and working, wondering if she was worth all this.

“And if you do these things for me, Joe, I promise I will devote myself to you. I will be yours openly, willingly. I will love you in a way you've never been loved before. I know it sounds corny and silly, but it's true. I will be your wife and you will have all of me.”

“And if I don't?” he growled, finally speaking. She shuddered at the coldness in his tone.

She let her fingers drop from his mouth. “Then I will still belong to you, but I won't be yours. That cop face you bitch about? It will never go away. You won't get me, ever.”

He stood up, towering over her, glaring at her with those dark eyes, making her want to shrivel up. Her heart contracted painfully in her chest and she began to feel small and dumb for making demands from him. But she knew she had to stand her ground, even if it broke her fucking heart. The fear that he would say no and laugh at her swirled around in her head, thumping in time with her heart. Even if he said no she would keep plodding along anyway, just as she always had. But she would lose some of what he'd given her over the past few months.

Negan turned from her and she squeezed her eyes shut, commanding herself not to cry. She heard him stomping across the room, and when she opened her eyes she found him gazing out the window through the gaps in the blinds.

She didn't know how long they stayed in silence, but when she couldn't take it anymore, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his middle, burying her face into his bare back. He heaved a great sigh and turned in her arms, tilting her chin upwards, staring into her eyes.

“Kiss me,” he demanded.

She did so, pouring her heart into the kiss, though letting him have the control he wanted. That was her mistake, she realized. She put herself in control and she'd put him into a hard place. He couldn't have her thinking she could control him, or even demand things from him. He reached up and wrapped a hand around her throat, making it hard for her to breathe or swallow.

His hand tightened around her throat and instinctual fear flooded her body. But he took a step forward and she realized he was pushing her back to the bed. She complied, backing up, never breaking eye contact with him. The backs of her knees hit the bed, but he kept coming, still gripping her throat, so she lay down, letting him settle on top of her. He nudged her legs apart, already stiff and erect and she still wet. 

Negan slid in with ease, making her whimper. He tightened his hold on her throat, asserting his authority. 

“Who the fuck do you fucking belong to?” He asked, thrusting hard into her with every word.

“You,” she rasped.

“Me. You fucking belong to me, doll. Not to fucking Rick. I don't ever want to hear his name coming from your lips in that stupid fucking way you talk about him. Is that fucking clear?”

“Yes,” she panted.

“Mine,” he grunted, thrusting savagely inside her again, using his hold on her neck as leverage. She grunted as he slammed into her over and over.

“You will fucking eat more,” he growled. “You will take care of yourself. And you fucking will stop the fucking woe-is-fucking-me act. Is that fucking clear, doll? No more fucking self-pity. It fucking pisses me the fuck off. So shut the fuck up about it.”

“Y-y-yes,” she said, swallowing against the tightness in her throat.

She could barely breathe and yet she was turned on, shuddering and whimpering every time his body met hers. He didn't touch her, aside from being inside of her and aside from his hand wrapped around her neck.

Nayna closed her eyes and reached down to touch herself. He snatched her wrist and locked it above her head. “You will only fucking touch yourself if I say you can fucking touch yourself. You will fucking come when I say you can. You will do as I fucking please or you will go fuck yourself, doll. You are fucking mine.”

And then he threw his head back, groaning as he came, sliding the hand at her wrist to her breast, squeezing hard enough to leave red marks. He didn't ease the pressure at her throat, however.

“Who the fuck you do you belong to?”

“I belong to you, Joe,” she whimpered, feeling gratifyingly violated. 

Negan's hand unraveled itself from her neck and he skimmed it up her arm to intertwine his fingers with hers. She was trembling as he nuzzled her, nudging her face to the side. He captured her lips with his and gave her a sweet, lingering kiss.

Negan broke off her and he grinned down at her. “And don't you ever fucking forget it, wife.”


	27. The Fun We Used to Have

RICK

He was gassing up the truck when a shadow came to loom over him. The wind carried the familiar scent of coconut and he glanced up, squinting at Nayna. 

He was surprised. She'd been avoiding him for the past two weeks, and suddenly there she was. Wearing Shane's hat...Of course she was. But the look in her eye was soft and a little dreamy, and there was something different about her that he couldn't put his finger on.

“You going on a supply run?” She asked, not meeting his eye, instead fingering the hem of her shirt.

“Yeah, going to look for more medicine. We're going through...” But he trailed off.

Nayna looked up and nodded. “I'm coming with you.”

“No.”

The last thing he needed was Nayna getting hurt and Negan coming down harder on them. He needed Nayna to stay and distract the man, to keep him from guessing their intentions. Rick looked at her face and realized that she needed to be partially in on the plan otherwise it would fail. Great, how was he going to talk to her about that without hurting her? 

“Yeah, I wasn't asking your permission, Rick. I'm coming if I have to yell at you the whole fuckin' way,” she said with a light and infectious smile twitching on her lips. 

He smiled back at her, but said nothing. Nayna reached down and combed her fingers through his hair. “I miss you, asshole.”

He'd missed her too. Missed her smile, her laughter, the light ease with which she used to walk, and the sparkle in her eye that had disappeared shortly after the prison fell. And there it all was again, making his heart beat rapidly in his chest, pulling him towards her. But he remained squatting, fiddling with the gas can, now avoiding her gaze.

Her fingers brushed down the side of his face and she cupped his chin in her hand, tilting his face upwards. Her thumb brushed against the bristly hairs of his beard and he turned to give her a small kiss on the palm of her hand.

“I miss you too, Nayna,” he finally said looking up at her.

“No more secrets? Please?”

Rick sighed and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Can you trust me enough to know what's good for everyone? Please? Can you understand that there are things I cannot tell you for your own safety?”

“Negan would never hurt me.”

“What's with the bruises on your neck?”

Nayna's cheeks bloomed a pretty pink, but her lips twitched into that same smile again. “What can I say? I like it rough.”

Rick made a face and Nayna laughed.

“Nayna...”

“Riiiick. Stop, you're the one who was always telling me I needed to get laid. So let's just not think about who it is and just think about the fact that I'm actually getting all the sex I need.”

“I'd rather not.”

The thought of Negan putting his hands on her. Negan's hands where is should have been his all along. Should have been her in his bed. She'd always been in his heart. He was a fucking idiot.

“Don't fuck up my good mood, Rick.”

“Apologies.”

“Forgiven. Promise.”

Rick let her wrist go and Nayna's hand dropped back down to her side.

“Where are we going?”

“Quantico.”

She cut her eyes to him. “Nice to see you're actually taking my advice.”

“I always take your advice into consideration, Nayna.”

“I know. I just meant lately and sorry. I don't want to fight. Not today.”

Rick put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. “Anyway, we're not going. I am.”

“You're fucking up my good mood, Rick,” she grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“You're giving me a headache, Nayna,” he groused and tossed the gas can into the bed of the truck. 

She snorted and skipped around to the passengers side and yanked the door open. He watched her toss her bow behind the seat. Rick almost laughed, because she struggled to get into the cab, so short was she. But she managed and Rick resigned himself to having her along for the trip. Truth be told he was glad she was coming. Was happy to be with her. Almost like the old times. He smiled, thinking about all the stupid shit they did when everything was still so new. But it would never be the same. He'd scared her off. She was coming back, albeit slowly, but she was. It was all he could hope for. 

He climbed into the cab next to her and revved the engine.

“Let's get this road on the show,” she grinned over him, pulling out a bottle of water and offering it to him.

Rick took it and put the truck into gear with one hand, tipping water into his mouth with the other. They drove through the open gate and he heard it slam shut behind them. 

He gave her a half smile and pushed a CD into the slot. Nayna groaned at the big band music. 

“Oh man, anything else but this shit. It gives me migraines,” she moaned, putting her hands to her temples. Rick grinned at her and snapped his fingers. She laughed and elbowed him.

“You always get to pick the music. It's my fucking turn.”

“Anything but Don't Fear the Reaper,” he relented, still smiling.

She tilted her head to the side, curiously. “What you don't like creepy death songs?”

He snorted and shook his head, though he still kept his eyes on the road. “If I never hear that song again, it'll be too fucking soon.”

“You don't like our song?” She joked, leaning back into the seat, lifting her hips off the seat.

Rick tried not to think about her hips or her backside. He pushed the memory of her soft lips away and the thoughts of her fingers curled in his shirt.

“Our song is a creepy death song. I don't know what's worse, that we have a song or that that is our fucking song,” Rick said, laughing.

Her dimples came out and Rick's heart contracted painfully. He hadn't seen her this happy since the prison. What had happened with Negan?

“Don't fear the Reaper, baby I'm your maaaaaaaan,” she crooned in her pretty voice. Rick rolled his eyes.

“Just put something on, woman.”

Nayna pulled her iPod from her back pocket. Cracked and worn, but still manageable.

“I can't believe that thing fucking works still,” Rick said, eying it as she plugged it in.

“I take good care of my shit,” she said, scrolling through the list of songs.

“Wasn't it cracked before all this?” He teased, raising a brow.

“Shhh, asshole, you're messing up my music mojo. If you don't stop I'm going to put on some Britney Spears,” Nayna said, occasionally glancing up at the road.

“Oh baby baby,” Rick said in a high falsetto making Nayna bend forward snorting. He waved his arms around and continued “How was I suuupooosed to knooow?”

“I think I'm going deaf in self-defense,” she said, giggling. 

Rick glanced over at her, seeing her brow furrow with concentration.

“You're in a good mood,” he smiled. 

She shrugged. “Tired of being angry at you. I want us to get back to where we were. I missed my best friend. Even if we can't be....you're still my person.”

Rick pursed his lips. They could never go back. But Nayna was sure as hell going to try and he'd come along for the ride. Instead, he raised his brows, bemused. “Your person?”

Nayna peered up at him and laughed. “Sorry, obscure TV reference....Yes, this one.”

She tapped on the song and turned the volume up.

“Oh god, what is it? Backstreet Boys?”

She grinned, a little evilly. “Something even better.”

Rick was surprised when he heard the smooth baritone of Darius Rucker. Nayna turned to him mouthing the words.

_You and me we come from different worlds_

_You like to laugh at me when I look at other girls_

_Sometimes you're crazy and you wonder why_

_I'm such a baby, yeah the Dolphins make me cry_

_Well there's nothing I can do_

_Been lookin' for a girl like you_

 

Rick shook his head, but he was mostly amused.

“What?” She asked turning the volume down.

He rubbed his upper lip and glanced over to her before turning his eyes back to the road. “Used to listen to them in college. Didn't realize someone your age would like them.”

Nayna raised her brows, but she hadn't lost her smile. “My age? Fuck you Rick Grimes. You're never too young or too old to listen to good music.”

He grinned and tapped on the wheel. “Name another good song then.”

She cleared her throat loudly. “Carry On My Wayward Son. Fortunate Son. Have You Ever Seen the Rain? Erotic City.”

“Erotic City?”

“Prince. You know: all of my purple life, I've been lookin for a dame that would wanna be my wife...”

Rick shook his head.

“Well, it's not very radio friendly, anyway. Wasn't, I mean.”

“Where'd you get such an eclectic taste in music anyway?”

“I grew up listening to all that shit—well not Erotic City. My parents were big into music. Probably why I love it as much as I do. God, that's one thing I do miss about the old world.”

“What? Puppies?” he teased.

“Hah hah, Rick. Besides puppies, I miss new music. I hope one day...” She trailed off into a lengthy silence, staring out the window into the vast expanse of trees.

Another song popped up, one he wasn't familiar with.

_So lately, been wondering_

_Who will be there to take my place_

_When I'm gone, you'll need love_

_To light the shadows on your face_

 

He stared ahead at the road, trying not to ponder the lyrics too much. They hit too close to home for him. Instead, he glanced over to her. Her eyes were slowly sliding out of focus as she slipped into her own world. He hoped she was dreaming of a better place for the rest of them, where they didn't have to worry about survival and food. Where they were comfortable and safe and warm everyday.

Rick sighed and shifted in the seat, resting one hand on the gear. Their banter was nice while it lasted. He hated for it to end, but nothing lasted forever. After another hour of driving he stopped the car and turned to her, studying her profile. She'd lost so much weight since Spencer tried to kill her. Since she'd been so sick. And she had already been thin, but now every angle of her face ended in sharp lines that he did not like. That Negan apparently didn't like either.

He let the music from her iPod wash over him. She hadn't lied when she said she had an eclectic taste. It made him smile, for just a moment.

The sun was sinking low in the sky. They would have to stop and find some sort of shelter soon. He cleared his throat as loud as he dared and she jumped, startled back into the here and now.

She wrinkled her straight nose, making the coppery freckles that peppered the bridge of her nose disappear. Turning her large dark eyes back to him, she raised her brow as if she had only just noticed they had stopped.

“What're we doing?”

“Stopping for a bit,” Rick said, reaching into his bag pulling out two granola bars. He offered her one, but she turned it down as he expected. He fiddled with one, trying to piece his words together as the songs shifted again. And once again the rich, husky voice of Darius Rucker filled the car.

_You got your big girl_

_Now you've got your young one too_

_Wondering if some day_

_I could have them_

_The way I once had you_

 

She looked at the iPod fondly. “This is my favorite song.”

“Look, there's something I need to tell you, Nayna,” he said, shifting so he was facing her. He hated to interrupt her, but he couldn't hold back anymore.

She sighed and pulled out one of Daryl's home rolled cigarettes, popping it between her lips. He sniffed as she lit it and inhaled. She offered it to him but he shook his head.

“You're fucking up my mood, Rick,” she said in muffled speech, the cigarette bobbing up and down between her lips. 

He reached down and turned off the radio. “Nayna...”

“Shoot,” she said, flicking her ashes out the window.

“I'm sorry for keeping this from you, Nayna, firstly.”

She shrugged. “Go on.”

He took a deep breath. “I found Morgan and Carol. They're at a place called The Kingdom.”

“Ezekiel...” she muttered furrowing her brow, staring into the treeline in the distance.

“How--”

“--Negan hates him. Lots of things you hear in the Sanctuary.”

She flicked more ashes out the window.

Rick nodded. “Jesus and I went to The Kingdom a few weeks ago. And well...we're planning to strike back against Negan.”

Her head snapped up, and her face paled. She shook her head. “You...you can't...”

“Nayna,” he murmured, but she was opening the door to the truck, jumping out. Rick slid across the bench and walked behind her to a stray, fallen log. She plopped down on it, letting the cigarette fall to the ground. Rick stomped on it before the dried leaves caught aflame.

“Why did you wait to tell me this? Why couldn't you have told me this before I fell for him. Before, when I could have stopped myself,” she said, her voice thick and raspy. 

Rick pressed his lips together. “Could you?”

“I could've...been different. Could have guarded...It would have changed so much,” she whispered.

“I don't think it would have, Nayna. Otherwise it wouldn't have happened this way, either,” Rick said, feeling sorry for her.

“You can't do this. It'd be a mistake, Rick. A big one,” she pleaded, changing tactics as she wrapped her arms around her belly. She shivered as if she were cold.

He squatted down and pulled her hands from under her elbows, squeezing them gently between his own. They were cold, so so cold.“We can't keep living like this, Nayna.”

“It's not smart,” she said softly. “He'll know.”

“Only if you tell him,” Rick whispered. She searched his face, hurt. He hadn't meant it to hurt her, but to reassure her.

“Promise me you won't do this,” she mumbled, pulling his closed hands to her forehead.

“I can't promise anything.”

“You have to.”

“No,” he said.

She thrust his hands off her and stood up, pounding on his chest. “You can't do this to me. Not now! Not when I'm finally happy.”

He grasped her wrists and pinned them above her head, afraid of her irrationality. What happened to his practical Nayna?“I know you have—I know you love him, Nayna, but he is not a good person. You deserve better. And you're not really happy, Nayna. You only think you're happy. Nayna, do you know what you sound like right now?”

“What?” She snarled, panting at him.

“You sound like the wife of an abuser. You're his victim and you're sticking up for him, clinging to him because you think he makes the world safer and better for you. You can't see what he's doing to you. Where is the Nayna from two weeks ago who told me she could separate the good and the bad? Now you're straight up telling me not to attack him, even if it means we all might starve.”

She jerked at her wrists, trying to free herself, but Rick held tight. “He is not abusing me.”

“Oh really?” Rick snapped, throwing her wrists down and yanking open her vest in one fluid motion, exposing the sensitive skin of her purple and blue throat. 

“Oh, Rick, hee hee, I just like it rough,” Rick mimicked her in the same high falsetto he used to sing earlier. She furiously readjusted the collar, glaring at him.

“You deserve so much better than what he's giving you. Please don't tell me he's not hurting you or he's never hurt you. You deserve better than that, Nayna,” he said, lowering his voice, pleading with her to understand.

“Like you?” she snarled. Rick looked away gathering his temper. He counted to ten before he reached for her. 

He tipped her chin up, looking into her dark eyes. “If that's what you want, yes. If not, then someone else.”

She shook her head and pulled back. “He makes me happy Rick.”

“He's a murderer.”

“So are we, Rick. So am I. So is your son. It's just how the world is,” she said, smiling wryly at him.

“No, it doesn't have to be like that. We're better than that. We only kill when we have to.”

“Did we really have to kill those men in their beds?”

There was no getting through to her. Negan's hold on her was too deep. He'd seen it before. Domestic abuse cases were always the worst calls. And what made him angry was the fact that had Nayna been even remotely rational, she would be thinking the same thing. Fuck, she'd be trying to bitch slap sense into herself. But she wasn't rational. 

He sighed. “You're starting to sound like Morgan.”

“Maybe he's too passive, but maybe he's right about certain things.”

“Nayna...” He grasped her shoulders as gently as he could. “Look at me. Judith deserves a better life than this.”

She turned her eyes away from him, blinking back tears. He swiped his thumb across her cheek, pushing back his own pain. Gazing into her face he could see the flickers of the old Nayna trying to break through.

“Rick...there's something I haven't told you either...If you do this. If you do this you'll lose me forever.”

“What do you mean? You're going to side with Negan?”

She wouldn't...Would she? It was his greatest fear, to lose her. And to lose her to someone like Negan...

“He'll take me away to the Sanctuary, Rick.”

“I won't let him,” he promised. And he meant it. If all of Alexandria went down, if he died, if she died, he would not let Negan take her.

“If you do this and he tries to take me away, I won't stop him,” Nayna said quietly.

He let his hands drop from her shoulders. “Why not?”

He was afraid of her answer. Afraid that if she did answer him, he would lose her. He would have to let her go, otherwise she would strangle herself trying to get away. She turned her face away, closing her eyes. Rick watched her breasts heaving up and down and he fought the urge to grasp her waist and draw her in so her breasts pressed against his chest. As much as he wanted her, he couldn't do that to her again. There was a sick, queasy feeling bubbling at the bottom of his stomach.

He wanted so bad for her to see reason, to be the Nayna he knew. That Nayna would have played Negan like a fiddle and would have been the first person in line to shoot him.

She squared her jaw and looked up at him with a hardened look in her eye. The same look she had before she'd beat the holy hell out of Spencer. “Because a wife should stand with her husband whether she agrees or not, don't you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy formatting nightmare! Maybe it's just me having trouble. Probably, knowing my reputation. Anyway, let's all try not to be too hard on Rick ;)


	28. The Bonds We Break

NAYNA

They found an abandoned shack about a mile down the road. It was a one room shed, with a stained mattress in the middle of the floor and all kinds of interesting supplies around. Including a table littered with old batteries and empty containers, both glass and plastic. The lingering sickly sweet stench suggested numerous dead animals under the floorboards. Even Rick made a face. But it was shelter and she'd rather sleep in the malodorous shack than out in the open truck. 

The windows were mostly dusted over, casting gloomy shadows around the room from the fading sun. Rick shoved the broken door shut, but it creaked back open. He motioned to the table and Nayna helped him drag it in front of the door, scattering the various contents across the floor.

Rick grunted and was able to wedge the door shut. He shrugged off his jacket and lay it on one of the rickety chairs. His face was completely red with effort and annoyance. She turned away from him and took off Shane's hat, pushing her damp hair off her sticky forehead. Her hair wasn't the only thing that was damp, the air was heavy with a fog of thick humidity. Summer was in full effect. She tossed the hat on the table, wincing as it sent a few glass bottles flying.

“Meth lab, wanna bet?” Nayna said, picking up the remains of a crack pipe.

“Think it's safe to stay here?”

“It's probably been three or four years since someone cooked here. I doubt it's unstable,” she muttered, pulling her satchel off and kicking it to the corner. She dropped her belt and bow on the table and shrugged out of her vest.

“I guess I'll take first watch,” Rick said, turning his back to her.

“No point, really. Nothing is getting in here and it's better if we both get a decent nights rest.”

Rick's eyes flicked to the mattress. It was a twin size, barely big enough for one, much less two people. But they'd slept in closer quarters before and it had never bothered them. But that was before Negan. 

“Come on, Rick,” she sighed. 

“Are you sure your husband won't mind?” he sneered. She tilted her head to the side, watching him in the filtered purplish light. 

“I don't care.”

“Oh really?” Rick put his hands on his hips and Nayna closed her eyes, gearing up for another fight that she didn't want to have.

When he spoke his voice went into the same high falsetto as before. “Oh, I think a wife should stand by her husband, even if she doesn't agree, hee hee.”

It wasn't the mocking voice that irritated her, but the flippant way he was portraying her. As if it were easy for her to throw that shit out there. Fucking asshole. After two deep breaths she opened her eyes and glared at him.

“Rick, if you don't shut the fuck up I'm going to punch you in the face because you're pushing me past my limit,” she snapped.

He threw his hands up in the air in mock defense. “I didn't realize you got to pick and choose which rules you follow.”

“Well, you know what? I fucking do because it's my fucking life. So there,” she finished lamely, making Rick shake his head at her.

They both stood staring at each other, each with their jaws locked and their lips tightened. She'd crossed her arms over her chest and he'd kept his hands on his hips. They were at an impasse. 

Finally, Nayna sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. She wasn't used to it being so damn short. And with the humidity it had started to curl. Ugh.

“Can we call a truce long enough to sleep?” she pleaded.

Rick looked away and closed his eyes. She watched his chest heave up and down and then he turned back to her and nodded. “Fine. But we have to talk tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said and held out her hand.

A strange look came over his face and for an instant Nayna wanted to smooth her hand down his cheek. But he took her hand and they shook.

She sat down hard on the mattress and coughed when dust erupted everywhere. On the other side of the bed Rick cough as well as making noises of displeasure. It was fucking disgusting and smelly and sadly, not the worst place they'd ever slept in. At least they were dry. Mostly. There was nothing they could do about the humidity. Nayna unlaced her boots and placed them next to the top of the bed. She stood again and pulled her Sig and holster off her pants, stuffing them into her boots.

Rick sat there chewing on his lip, staring at the opposite wall.

Nayna cleared her throat. “You first and then...”

Rick nodded, wiping his forehead and pursing his lips. He looked at her and then turned his back to her, yanking off his damp, white shirt. Nayna tried not to stare at the lean muscles on his back. Rick tossed the shirt on the table, on top of her satchel. 

Luckily for her, even the purpling light was beginning to fade and darken into the blueness of night. Soon she wouldn't even be able to see his shape in the dark. Which she supposed was a good thing. At least it hid the redness in her face. She looked away ashamed as he turned back towards the mattress. She fiddled with the hem of the oversized shirt and decided it was too hot to keep it on. Especially since she was going to be sleeping pressed against Rick. Who she knew to be a fucking space heater.

What she wouldn't give to be back at Alexandria in her own bed...Her own bed which brought up thoughts of Rick's house. That was her bed, her home. Not the brownstone. But Rick hadn't asked her to move back and as much as she missed them...

He snatched his jacket and grunted as he lay across the musty, stained mattress, using the jacket as a pillow. Nayna tried not to stare at his chest and tried to quell the butterflies slamming around in her belly. She shook her head and wriggled out of the T-shirt, leaving her in the same short cami she'd worn when Negan had surprised her that one day. It still didn't quite reach the top of her cargo pants, leaving a stretch of uncovered skin. 

She looked up, still trying in vain to yank the hem of the cami down, but every time she did, her boobs popped out more than she was comfortable with. Rick was watching her, an interested expression on his face. Nayna couldn't help but giggle at the awkwardness of the situation. Rick smiled weakly back at her a beckoned her onto the bed.

Nayna kneed onto the mattress and curled against him on her side, pillowing her head on the dewy skin of hi chest. His arm came down around her shoulders, pulling her belly to side with him. His body heat radiated into her own, making the already hot, stuffy cabin utterly suffocating. Already uncomfortable, she hooked her ankle over his calf and rested her hand on his belly. She tried in vain to not breathe in his musk.

They'd slept like this a hundred times. A thousand times. And nothing had ever come of it. Tonight wouldn't be any different, but it was. Rick's body felt stiff and wooden, instead of the firm sturdiness she was used to. She couldn't settle the stupid butterflies in her stomach. Or the pinging in her brain saying she was betraying Negan, even though it was completely innocent.

She closed her eyes listening to the alternating cadence of his breathing and his heartbeat. Steady, always steady. That was the Rick she knew. What had happened to him? What had happened to them all?

But Rick was already asleep, his face turned away from hers. She had the horrible urge to slap him awake. Fucking Rick, he never had any problems sleeping. Nayna knew it would be at least another hour before she dropped off. 

Absentmindedly, she stroked her fingers along his belly. She tried not to think of Negan, but it was hard not to. So many things for her to not think of, it kept her mind busy. Too busy to sleep. She had a feeling...no, she knew Negan would be livid if he ever found out. Not that she could blame him too much. 

Her stomach felt sour at the thought of Rick and Negan butting heads. She somehow had to convince them to work it out. Her heart couldn't handle if anything happened to either one. How was she supposed to stop it? Rick was determined to do this and she knew Negan wouldn't take well. There was no way she would tell him either because Negan would react just as badly.

Fucking fuck, no wonder her hair was falling out. She wished they could go back. But back to what? To Rick ignoring her? To not having Negan in her life? 

So engrossed in her thoughts, she didn't notice Rick was awake until his fingers wrapped around her wrist and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Don't do that,” he mumbled. “Can't sleep.”

“Sorry.”

“Go to sleep, Nayna,” Rick said, turning his face away from her again.

She winced. She'd gotten in the habit of stroking Negan's stomach after they made love. Fuck, she was thinking about Negan far too much.

She lay quietly with her palm splayed on his shoulder, staring at the dark, counting sheep, trying to keep her brain occupied with something other than Rick or Negan. Soon her eyes grew heavy and she was lulled into sleep by the sounds of Rick's rhythmic snores. 

 

Nayna spent the night slipping in and out of hazy dreams where Negan yelled at her, into reality where Rick snored loudly in her ear. When she finally pried her eyes open in the pink tinged morning light, she felt too exhausted to move. She peeled her cheek off Rick's chest and rubbed it on her shoulder. There was a red spot where her face had been.

They were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, and Nayna wished she'd taken off her pants last night as well. Pushing herself up on one elbow she gazed down at Rick. He opened his eyes and looked back up at her and smiled. He reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear before stroking his fingers down her cheek and across the fading bruises at her throat. 

“Don't,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and throaty.

Rick nodded, but he grasped the back of her neck and pulled her down on top of him, sliding one arm around her back and keeping the other buried in her soggy hair. His lips found hers, catching them in an eager, greedy kiss. 

God his lips felt so good on hers, his hard, solid body so, so good. She loved his hand in her hair, his hand on her back, feeling him grow against her belly. The warm, wet pull of her bottom lip into his mouth, sending a euphoric rush straight to her heart. 

But even as her heart soared with joy, a black rage spun through her mind and she jerked her head back. Rick's half-lidded eyes stared at her and his arms tightened about her, but not enough to hold her down. She struggled away from him, panting, stumbling to her feet, slamming into the table on the opposite side of the room. 

Fuck, she had fucked up. Behind her Rick scrambled to his feet and scuffed his way towards her, placing his hands on her hips.

She whirled around and did something she'd never done before. She slapped him. She should have punched him, but she slapped him, sending the echoing smack reverberating around the shack. Her hand buzzed and burned from the effort. Rick stumbled back, holding his face, looking at her with those damn fucking puppy dog eyes.

“You...” she could barely speak, her eyes were welling up with tears. “Asshole. How could you? Again? Fucking dammit Rick. Negan is my husband. You are with Michonne. What are you doing? Why are you doing this to her?”

Rick looked down at his shoes, his hand still on his cheek, and Nayna shoved past him, jerking her Sig and its holster from her boots, which she jammed on her feet, not bothering to sufficiently lace them. She crossed the room again and stuffed herself into her shirt and vest, swinging her satchel across her body and slinging her bow over her shoulder. In one quick motion she had her belt hooked around her hips and tied off, even with her shaking fingers.

She put her hands under the table and dragged it along the rotten floorboards, grimacing at the sound of the scraping feet. The door swung open and Nayna wriggled her body through the small opening. Behind her, Rick called her name but she kept moving through the woods.

She couldn't stay. She wouldn't. And she couldn't go to the Sanctuary and face Negan. She'd fucked up so bad. Tears came thick and fast, blurring her vision, but she still kept on moving. Some fucking wife she was. But Negan probably wouldn't miss her anyway.

She still heard Rick shouting for her and she winced. He was going to bring every fucking Walker upon them. Fine, she needed to blow some steam. She walked for a half hour, Rick's voice growing softer and softer until she no longer heard him behind her.

Nayna stopped at a small stream and dipped her hands in, gulping the cool refreshing water, letting it trickle down between her breasts. She wet her hair and breathed a sigh of relief. It was hot, but not as humid as the previous day, thank god.

She reached in her bag for Shane's hat and despaired when she couldn't find it. She'd left it back in the meth lab. Of course she had. There was nothing she could do. She couldn't go back to Rick. Because if she did, she would forgive him. She would let him talk her into going to war with her husband. And she couldn't sit by while they killed each other. There would be no truce. Both men were too fucking stubborn and set in their ways.

There was no going back. She was utterly alone. But it was better this way. At least that's what she kept telling herself.

Nayna searched through her bag for food, coming up with three granola bars, two apples, some goat cheese that she hoped was still good, and dried venison strips. Damn, she was fucking stupid. She hadn't fully prepared. And she bet Rick hadn't either. It's not like he expected to take her. She would have to hunt. 

And she didn't have shelter. Or containers for water. Or anything really. Fuck, fuck she was dumb. But she'd make do, she always had.

She and Daryl hunted together sometimes, but she wasn't the most proficient. She was learning though. And after about twenty minutes she'd shot two squirrels and had tied them to her belt. It was still early, the sun barely peering out from the horizon. She was really hoping to catch a rabbit or two.

Inside her head she stirred plans for shelter, a fire, water. She was close enough to Quantico that she could walk to her old house and see what was there. She could start over. Alone. But it was better this way.

Nayna crept through the woods until she'd found a burrow. Slowly she worked her way out until she spied several chomping on leaves. She'd had an arrow loaded and was waiting for a rabbit come within range when something grabbed her elbow. Our of pure instinct Nayna whirled around, catching a Walker in the head with her bow, sending it to the ground.

Fucking shit. The rabbits bounced off as the Walker got to its feet. Nayna put her boot to its belly and kicked it back on the ground before bashing its head in with her boot.

“Asshole.”

She froze as a small herd of about a dozen shuffled her way. Fucking shit. She fired a few arrows, taking down three and before they came too close she ducked near a tree and sprinted off in the same direction as the rabbits. 

Fucking Rick! His yelling must have brought them down. She tripped and staggered over a few rocks, gasping as one grabbed the back of her vest. She reached behind her, grabbing its arm and turning underneath it. Had it been a human, its shoulder would have been dislocated and in too much pain to attack. But the Walker kept coming until she kicked it in the back of the knees. It dragged her down on top of it, teeth clicking so close to her throat. She didn't even have a knife. Fucking Spencer. And her stupid self.

She grasped the Walker by the ears and slammed its head on the ground repeatedly, half sobbing to herself as she bashed the thing's skull in. Once it was dead, she was able to stagger to her feet, only to realize she was completely surrounded by Walkers and they were fast closing in on her.

None of the trees were fit to climb and her bow lay on the ground five feet away. She yanked her Sig from its holster, and fired at the closest three. 

Something snagged her shoulder and Nayna sobbed. She was about to put the gun to her head when another shot rang out and it fell dead behind her. Another shot and another, more and more Walkers falling all around her. 

Rick jumped out of the brush with his Colt and between the two of them they made quick work out of the rest of the Walkers. 

He grabbed her elbow and whirled him around to face her. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What was I thinking? I was thinking that I have to get away from this asshole as soon as fucking possible. Jesus fucking ballsacks you yelling for me could have gotten me killed!”

“No, you coming out here on your own without a knife or a fucking thought could have gotten you killed. Dammit Nayna you know better than to walk off alone when you're upset.”

She shook her head. “It doesn't matter. You don't have to worry about me anymore. I'm leaving.”

“No, you're fucking not,” he snarled, his hand clamping tighter around her arm.

She jerked her arm free. “What're you going to do Rick? Tie me down and force me back to Alexandria? Because if you do I will tell Negan what you did to me and he'll come down harder on you and everyone else.”

Rick took a step towards her and she stepped back. “You have--”

“--I fucking can't! I won't go back. I'm tired of being jerked around between the two of you,” she yelled, throwing her hands in the air.

Rick rubbed his nose, shaking his head. When he looked at her his bright blue eyes were aflame. “I thought you loved him...me?”

She released a shaky breath. “I love you both but there is someone I love more than both of you combined.”

“Who?”

“Me!” she cried, pounding on her chest. “I love me more. Let me go Rick.”

“I can't. I don't want to lose you.”

Nayna laughed bitterly. “You already have. The moment you sold me to my husband, that's when you lost me, Rick. Don't you get it?”

“What about Negan?” Rick asked, changing tactics, but she knew him well enough to know when he was trying to handle her.

“He's your problem now,” she said quietly.

“Some wife you are.”

She shrugged flippantly. “Some best friend you are. At least Shane would have never betrayed me.”

“Funny how you compare me to Shane, Nayna, because if I wasn't mistaken I'd think you two were the same fucking person,” he snapped.

“Fuck you. Shane--”

“--I don't fucking care about Shane. He's fucking dead. You're not.”

“I am to you.”

He looked away from her and then back to her again, the fire in his eyes finally going out.

Rick shook his head. “Fine, go. I don't want you in Alexandria with my daughter anyway.”

Nayna laughed and said the one thing she knew would hurt Rick. “Speaking of Shane, it's not like she's really your daughter anyway.”

She thought she'd be satisfied with the hurt running across his face. Instead it only made her want to cry. Rick turned away from her without another word and walked off. She watched the best friend she had ever had leave her. She watched him until he'd completely disappeared into the wilderness, heading back to the truck.

She sat down on a log and cried.


	29. Dear Diary

**Why did I say that? Rick didn't deserve that. Regardless of DNA he is Judith's father...I'm such an idiot. And now I've cut off any ties with Alexandria. I really can't go back. Five hours later and I've calmed down to realize that I'm an idiot and I want to go home and now I can't.**

**You know, I really thought he'd come back for me. We've fought so much lately and he's always come back for me. He's always tried to swallow his words. But he's not coming back this time. And who can blame him? I'm the asshole here.**

**And not only did I hurt Rick, but I betrayed Negan too. I kissed Rick back. I liked it. I enjoyed it. All the things Negan forbid me to do and I did it anyway. Yeah, I pushed him away but...Maybe that's why he wanted me to live at the Sanctuary with him, so I'm not tempted.**

**He's been so good to me and I've just pissed all over him. All over my husband. It's still weird to call him my husband, especially knowing five other women do. And if I go to the Sanctuary, I'll just be another wife. I want to be special to him, but I won't be if I have to compete with other women for his affection.**

**If I go to the Sanctuary, what would I tell him? That I changed my mind? That I couldn't possibly wait for him, that I had to get there as soon as possible? That's a load of horseshit. Negan is not stupid, he'd know something was up and I don't want to tell him. Even now I want to protect Rick. Because somewhere in the corner of my mind...he's right. I know he is. He's always fucking right. But another part of me feels like there is so much more to Negan than I know. And I want to know everything.**

**I don't fucking know what to do, where to go. I could walk my ass down to Quantico, and then what? See the house my probably-dead husband hated? See the divorce papers laying on the table? See his last email to me? Bring back awful floods of memories?**

**I can't just keep running away from everything. That's not how life works. But if I go back, Rick will probably publicly exile me. And then I'll be in the same situation.**

**It's probably better this way. If I'm going to make this work with Negan I need to separate from Rick, I need to cut him out of my life otherwise I will always be the indecisive little girl who couldn't choose between two men.**

**And I've brought myself full circle back to Negan. I suppose I have no choice other than to just tell him the truth and go to the Sanctuary. It's what he wanted anyway and a little part of me wants it too.**

**Maybe if I go there Rick won't go through with his plan to attack Negan. No, he'd probably do it anyway and call it a worthy sacrifice. Didn't he already sacrifice me once? He'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving everyone else. It would break his fucking heart, but he'd do it because he thinks it would be the only option. He feels like the time for talking is over and there will be no negotiating with Negan. And he may be right.**

**I'm trying not to think of Glenn or Maggie or Michonne or Carl or Judith. Or anyone I'll never see again. Carol or Daryl or Morgan. If I go to the Sanctuary, I give up everyone I've fought for. But if I go, I will be with Negan, whom I love.**

**I don't know why I love him. He's an asshole, he's nasty, he's manipulative, he's hard. But...then again so am I. All the things I don't like to admit about myself. I'm exactly all those things. And I'm selfish. Hell, I don't know why Rick loves me. Not that it matters. I've got to stop thinking about Rick and I've got to start thinking more about my husband and his feelings.**

**I was surprised at the look on his face when I said that I loved him. I thought he would be sarcastic and mocking. Instead he was thoughtful and unreachable. Which only drew me to him more. I was even drawn to him when he was choking me. I wasn't lying to Rick when I said I liked it rough and looking back on it, well all I can say is that I want that to happen again and again.**

**I suppose I should get my ass off this log and gather what I can. I'm going home—to the Sanctuary. To be with my husband.**

 


	30. The Ideas We Have

MICHONNE

She cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders in anticipation of the fight that was brewing between her and Rick. The air between them crackled with unmeasured tension, and even Carl noticed during the drive. They, along with a few of the others headed to the Kingdom to train soldiers for the army against Negan.

When Michonne first met Ezekiel she realized exactly what Rick had meant when he said he didn't know what to make of the man. Styling himself King and putting himself on a throne above everyone. Like Negan. But unlike Negan he genuinely seemed to care about the welfare of his people and had an intense hatred for violence. Funny how he wanted to stand against Negan, but he hated fighting. Michonne was tempted to point it out but Rick cut her off before she could speak and then Ezekiel had offered them rooms to sleep in. They were quickly ushered out.

There had been plenty of room in the school for everyone to have their own quarters, Carl included. Michonne was glad. It would give them the privacy they needed.

She was sitting on the bed, glowering at her shoes when Rick slipped into the room. He smiled sheepishly at her when he found her awake.

“Sorry, Carl wanted to talk. He seemed really excited.”

Michonne chewed on her inner lip and nodded, still staring at her shoes.

“Are you okay?” He asked and bent down, taking her hand between his.

“No, I'm angry.”

“At Ezekiel? I don't think he means us any harm,” Rick said and leaned in to kiss her, but Michonne leaned away from him.

His brow furrowed and she glared at him in response. This wasn't a fight she wanted to have, but she knew it was coming.

“You know exactly why I'm angry.”

He dropped her hand and stood up, towering over her. “We're not discussing this again, Michonne.”

“Either we discuss it or you can find somewhere else to sleep,” Michonne said, looking up at him, watching him square his jaw.

He walked across the room and leaned on the door, crossing his arms over his chest. “There's nothing else to say.”

She glared at him. “Oh, I have plenty to say to you.”

“Like what?”

She didn't want to say it, but she didn't know how to get Rick's attention otherwise. “You're in love with her.”

“What?” he spluttered.

“You. Are. In. Love. With. Nayna,” she said, as calm as she could, folding her hands in her lap.

Rick's cheeks turned red, partially in anger and because Michonne had guessed the truth. But she'd known from the start. Even before Rick seemed to know. She was pleasantly surprised when Rick made a move on her, but sometimes she wondered if it was a mistake. If Rick should have chosen Nayna from the start. If he hadn't because Nayna distanced herself from everyone.

And then she looked into his blue eyes, staring down at her, tortured with love and sadness and desire. Torn, as always was the case with Rick. And once again she felt drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. Knowing the flame was bad but wanting it anyway.

“I love you,” he said, his voice gravelly and hoarse.

She swallowed and took in a deep breath. “I know. But then there is her. But that's not the point of this conversation. I want you to listen to me.”

He shook his head and closed his eyes. “She's gone and that's it. She's not coming home.”

As he'd told her the night he'd come back. Angry beyond belief, spitting mad. And then he got absolutely shit faced and cried in her arms.

“Rick, what are you doing? She's one of us. We're not leaving her out there,” Michonne said, fighting to keep her voice even and filled with reason against rick irrationality.

“She wants to be out there, Michonne,” Rick said, mimicking her tone. It took everything she had to not roll her eyes.

“Funny how you didn't say that about Carol,” Michonne pointed out.

He shook his head again, as if she didn't get it. “That's different.”

“How? Nayna has done just as much for the group as Carol has.”

“Carol was having a mental breakdown.”

Michonne snorted. “And you think Nayna is perfectly rational? Before you left on that damn trip with her you kept telling me how worried you were about her. About how you were afraid she was going to do something stupid.”

“She doesn't want our help,” Rick said, gritting his teeth together, staring at a spot over her shoulder.

“Neither did Carol, and yet you ran off to find her. What is the difference?” Michonne asked, tilting her head to the side.

Rick looked down, pressing his lips together. He couldn't meet her eyes. There was no difference aside from the fact that Nayna hurt his pride and his heart. But Rick couldn't see that she was a wounded animal, in need of care, not abandonment.

“I'm not stupid Rick. I know how you feel about her. I know how she feels about you. And what you did to her was horrible.”

“Are we going to go over this again?” Rick snarled.

Michonne pushed herself up.“Yes! Because you're not putting yourself in her mental state!”

Rick jerked away from the wall and took a step towards Michonne.“You want to know her mental state? She fucking loves Negan! She's calling him her husband.”

Michonne regarded him coldly. “And you think she's perfectly sane and rational? Are you sure you're not just leaving her because you're pissed at her for developing feelings for someone who has come along and treated her like a woman and not a means to an end?'

“Nice to know whose side you're on,” sneered Rick.

“You're one to talk. Don't think I don't know you've been moping around over her. And it's more than you losing your best friend.”

She kept throwing his feelings for Nayna in his face, partly because he refused to acknowledge it to her and partly because she was still stung.

He grabbed Michonne's shoulders and leaned in. She could see the reflection of the light in his shiny eyes. “She fucking told me Judith wasn't mine.”

“Rick,” she murmured and cupped his cheek. It was an awful thing to say, but so unlike her.

Michonne sighed. “What did you say to her?”

He took a step back as if she'd slapped him. “What?”

“Nayna doesn't just say shit like that out of the blue! You had to have provoked her.”

Rick squared his jaw, but Michonne continued on, furious. “She's my family too. And you cannot stop me from bringing her home.”

“It's not her home anymore. I don't want her there.”

“So it is personal. Rick, I expected better of you.”

He ignored her.“I need you here. I need you to help train these people.”

“You're still planning this? Even though Nayna might be in danger?” Michonne crossed her arms over her chest, staring at Rick as if she'd never seen him before. He was being fucking stupid. Because he couldn't see past the hurt.

“She chose her own way,” he repeated.

“That's bullshit and you know it. You're only telling yourself that so you'll feel better,” she said poking him savagely in the chest.

“What do you want me to do? I can't make her come home. I can't make her stay. I can't make her stop loving Negan.”

Michonne's hand came up to her forehead. “If it's true, if she loves Negan, then we need to get her back more than ever.”

“Why?”

“Where do you think she's going to go, Rick? She's going to go to the Sanctuary.”

Rick shrugged. “So let her.”

“Don't you get it? That means Negan has the upper hand on us. If you choose to attack them and Negan has her, he will kill her.”

“I said what do you want me to do?” Rick's voice grew loud.

Michonne threw her hands in the air. “Lock her up in Morgan's cell. Until this is over with. Keep her safe. Protect her like you always wanted to do!”

Rick laughed bitterly.“Lock her up? Do you have any idea--”

“--she's confused and lonely.”

Rick snorted. “The last thing she is, is confused. And yeah I noticed she was lonely.”

“You're just angry because she chose Negan over you.”

“You know what, I think I will find some where else to sleep tonight,” Rick snapped. He yanked his jacket off the back of the chair and stomped out of the room. Michonne winced as the door slammed shut behind him.

She knew it was going to be like that. But it didn't make it hurt any less.

 

Michonne stepped out underneath the stars, closing her eyes as the warm breeze tickled across her skin. Her heart was still pounding, and her blood still boiling from the fight with Rick. But she was right. And he was doing all this for the wrong reasons. She just didn't know how to convince him to bide his time further. To let Nayna have her space. Because if she knew Nayna, she knew the poor girl would miss them and eventually she'd return, Negan's wife or not. There was an independent streak in Nayna, a wild streak that not even Rick had been able to tame. She lived her life on her terms, and no one else's. Michonne admired her for that. 

She jumped when the door behind her swung open. The soft sounds of a man's foot falls scraped their way next to her. She could tell by the lighter tread with shorter steps that it wasn't Rick. When she opened her eyes she was surprised to see Morgan leaning over the railing beside her. He glanced over and smiled and she smiled back.

He grinned at her. “Rick told me about the protein bar.”

Michonne laughed and threw up her hands. “Alright, alright I finally admit it.”

Morgan shook his head, chuckling. “I don't blame you. The peanut butter ones are the best.”

“Oh yes they are.”

A heavy silence fell between them and the chirping of crickets and the whispering wind filled their ears. Two beautiful sounds she thought she could never enjoy again. And yet here she was, standing on the balcony, letting the waves of sound wash over her and lull her into calmness.

She couldn't help but wonder where Nayna was. Somewhere out there. Like the song Nayna sometimes sang to Judith when she thought no one could hear.

She turned to Morgan, the thoughts about Nayna too much. “How's Carol?”

“She's doing fine. Still on the mend, but she's good. Still is down.”

“You mean with PTSD.”

Morgan nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“It's hit us all at one time or another. It's her time now. But we'll get her through it.”

“Yes, we will.”

They fell into another lengthy silence where Michonne tried to think of anything to say. Anything but conversation about Rick or Nayna.

Morgan cleared his throat. “Beautiful night.”

“Yep,” Michonne said, pressing her cheek into her shoulder.

She pushed herself off the railing and was about to head inside when Morgan grabbed her elbow and looked into her eyes. “Is he just going to leave her out there? Are you?”

Michonne sighed. “He won't even tell us where they were headed. Says he doesn't want anyone going after her. Says she chose her own way.”

She gently extracted herself from his grasp and went back to the railing. Below dozens of tents flapped in the breeze.

Morgan shook his head. “She deserves better than that. I think...Rick has changed so much.”

“We all have. None of us are innocent. None of us are without blood on our hands,” she said with a shrug. Like Carol, they all carried heavy loads.

Morgan gazed outward, towards the road beyond the walls. “She was right, you know?”

“About?” She cocked her head to the side, listening politely, but not wanting to hear about it.

“Some life being more precious than others. I didn't want to believe her at the time, but after what happened with Carol, I knew she was right. In that split second between the time that man shot Carol and I shot him, I knew she was right.”

“It's all about balance Morgan. You can't go around killing everyone you meet, but you can't trust everyone you meet either. You can't trust people you thought you could...”

Morgan snorted furiously. “Spencer?”

“Yeah. Though I'm sure Rick would say Nayna.”

She didn't know why she'd said that. The bitterness wasn't becoming, and it tasted vile.

“I know. You know, I wish he would see her how she really is,” Morgan murmured.

“How is that?” Michonne asked, her curiosity piqued. 

“A sweet, independent woman who is full of life and loyalty. He sees her as a little girl who needs to be protected. And that's not the case. It never has been. I knew from the moment I met her, she wasn't that type of girl.”

“You're right...Do you know how I see her?”

“How?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, but he was looking up at the stars.

“I see a scared, lonely woman who has busted her ass to get us here. Whose best friend betrayed her into a sexual relationship with our enemy. I see a sensitive woman who feels everything, who gets so bogged down in herself that she forgets what a good person she is. And you know what? That's all of us. We've forgotten that we are the good guys. We've done some terrible things, but ultimately we want a better life for everyone. That is what makes us the good guys.”

Michonne didn't know who she was trying to convince, herself or Morgan. But he only stared at the sky. 

“I heard Glenn and Daryl talking about going after her,” he said after a long pause, turning back to her.

Michonne shook her head. “They don't need to. I know exactly where she would go.”

He pursed his lips. “To Negan.”

She thinned her own lips and nodded. “It's where I would go. She probably feels like he would be more welcoming.”

“He probably would be,” Morgan sighed. “Dammit.”

“Rick told me that she considers herself his wife now.”

Morgan cursed and slapped a hand on the railing.“And Rick still wants to attack them next time Negan visits...He'll kill her.”

“Abraham says there are casualties in war,” she said.

“You don't believe that,” his voice rasped.

She shrugged. “I do and I don't. I believe there are necessary sacrifices, voluntary ones. Not like this, though. Not with someone who is so fragile.”

“No. Not with someone we love.”

“Glenn and Daryl agree with me. Maggie can be brought around if she's not already on our side. Abraham and Rosita stand with Rick. She hates Nayna after Spencer. Eugene and Sasha will stand with Rosita and Abraham. I don't know where Tara or Heath stands. But we can count on Jesus to listen to reason,” Michonne said ticking her fingers as she talked at Morgan. “We have to stop Rick from doing this until we're sure Nayna is safe.”

“How?”

Michonne shook her head. “Man handle him? Refuse to obey?”

“Talk to him.”

“Talking hasn't gotten me anywhere, Morgan. I just talked to him this evening and...talking won't work. The more I talk the more he digs his boots into the sand.”

There must have been a catch in her voice because Morgan frowned up at her. “Everything okay?”

She sighed. There it was. Better out than in otherwise she'd be chewing on it all night. “Yes and no. I'm mad at Rick. I'm mad at Nayna. But mostly I'm mad at myself. I knew Rick had feelings for her before we got together. And what happened with us was so fast, but it felt so right. And everything was fine until Negan came and suddenly Rick becomes so preoccupied with Nayna and I sort of wished she would disappear. Isn't that horrible? She's one of the people I care most about and I wanted her to go away. And now that she's gone, I want her back. And I want Rick back. And I just don't know if we're going to survive all this. And I feel like a shitty person.”

“You're not a shitty person.”

“No, but I feel like one,” Michonne muttered, staring out into the sky.

They stayed quiet for a time.

“What do you think of Ezekiel?”

Michonne chuckled. “He's a little much.”

“A little?”

“The tiger gives me the willies,” she confessed and Morgan laughed.

He tapped on the metal railing. “When are we doing this?”

“It won't work to talk to Rick unless we have everyone, or nearly everyone on board. Let me talk to the rest and then we'll reconvene tomorrow after practice.”

“I'll talk to Carol and see where she stands.”

“Good idea.”


	31. The Things We Miss

SHERRY

Bullshit was the name of the game. Jennifer was the best. Amber couldn't lie to save her life. Maria and Carrie preferred gossiping to playing bullshit, but after the other girls begged them, they consented. Sherry just played to have company. And to have something to do. Sitting around could get boring all day and she wasn't much for gossiping. 

Negan was gone for the evening, thankfully, so the girls were left to their own devices. Which admittedly was perfectly fine by all of them.

“Two ones,” Maria grinned, starting off the game as she slapped the cards on the table.

Amber giggled. “A two.”

Jennifer tucked a lock of long black hair behind her ear. “Two three's.”

Sherry shifted through her cards. She only had a single four. A sigh escaped her lips. “One four.”

The door opened and all the girls looked up, expecting to see Negan. It was just Dwight. They all turned back to the game and Sherry glanced down at the cards in her hand, unable to look at him. She couldn't look at the burnt part of his face without her heart contracting painfully.

“Need one of you to go downstairs,” Dwight grunted.

“What for?” Maria asked, raising a brow at him.

The girls all looked up at him again, except for Sherry, who concentrated on rearranging her hand. She wished he would go away. She couldn't look at him without tremendous amounts of guilt.

“Can one of you just come down or what?” Dwight snapped.

“Not unless you tell us what it's for. I don't think Negan would appreciate the way you're talking to us,” Carrie sniffed and tossed down two cards facedown. “Two fives.”

“One six,” Maria said, sliding a card across the table.

From the corner of her eye she could see Dwight shifting uncomfortably. Sherry didn't know how much longer she could keep him on the hook. The other girls weren't willing to give him the time of day. But if she moved too quick one of them would sell her out. As much as they pretended to care for each other, Sherry wasn't so sure it was legitimate. But it was better than the arguments they used to have, because at least Negan wouldn't yell.

“Two sevens,” Amber smiled. 

“Bullshit!” Carrie and Maria called at the same time, laughing. Sherry wished she could have shared in their mirth. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Dwight rubbing his brow angrily.

“What? No!”

“You always smile when you lie,” Maria laughed.

“It's true,” Carrie grinned.

Maria turned over the cards to reveal a four and five. Amber sighed, a fake heavy sigh, and took the cards from the pile. 

Jennifer sniffed. “Where were we?”

“Eights,” Sherry said.

“One eight.”

“Sherry,” Dwight said, looking at her, talking to her in that voice that never failed to tug at her heart.

“Three nines,” Sherry said, putting the three cards in the middle. The rest of the girls furiously pawed through their cards and she finally met Dwight's eyes.

She looked back down at her cards and inhaled sharply. “What?”

“Sherry, please just go downstairs.”

Her gaze met Dwight's and beside her Jennifer shifted awkwardly.

“Alright. Let me get dressed,” Sherry mumbled. She tossed her cards in the middle of the pile much to the chagrin of the other girls.

“Sherry,” sweet Amber caught her wrist. “Are you sure?”

“I'll be fine,” she reassured the younger woman as she stepped into her room to throw on a skin tight t-shirt and a short skirt, paired with a jacket. She paused for a moment, burying her face in her hands and taking several deep breaths. She just didn't want to be alone with him.

Dwight was looking everywhere but at her. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

He opened the door for her and gestured for her to go first. When they were alone in the corridor, Sherry crossed her arms over her ribs and she looked at him. “What is it?”

Dwight leaned against the wall and picked at his thumb. “There's a girl here to see Negan. I need you to get her some clothes and get her set up in her own room and whatever...”

She had the urge to reach out and stroke him, but she couldn't. Oh how she wanted to. How she loved him. Especially now. She'd always taken their love for granted before and now it was the one thing she wanted most in the world. How she wished she could go back. But it would only be bad for both of them in the end.

She smoothed a hand down her skirt. “I didn't realize he had picked a new wife. Who is it?”

“It's no one here,” Dwight said, pushing himself off the wall and past her, towards the stairs.

Sherry frowned and followed him down. “What?”

“You know the rumors. That girl, Nayna? Yeah, she's here. Wants to see him. I think she's going to see if—it doesn't fucking matter. She needs clothes and shit and if she's not treated right, Negan is going to be fucking pissed. But he's going to be fucking pissed anyway by the look of her fucking face.”

“What do you mean?” Sherry asked as they crossed the catwalks.

“Looks like someone beat the holy hell out of that woman,” he grumbled. “Negan is going to have a fucking fit.”

“Where is he anyway?”

“I don't know his fucking itinerary.”

“Alright. Sorry.”

Dwight led her down to the factory floor. It was deserted at this hour. Standing in the middle of the floor was a small girl with dark shoulder length hair. Her back was to them and she seemed to be taking in everything. Oddly enough she had been allowed to keep her weapons, a bow and a gun, along with her pack. 

He cleared his throat and she started, turning towards them. Dwight had been right. Sherry was shocked at the state of her face. A cut lip, a swollen eye, a busted cheek. Sherry wanted to reach out and wipe the dried blood away. But she didn't because the poor woman looked like she would flee at any moment. 

Her overly large dark eyes darted from left to right. Her too heavy brow came together in an almost scowl, a sharp contrast from the fear in her eyes. She chewed on her swollen lip as her large breasts heaved up and down, as if she'd been running. Sherry's eyes grazed over the sharp angular lines of her jaw, over the hollowed cheeks. If she gained some weight, she'd be just as pretty as Carrie. Not that she was ugly, but the throes of starvation showed in every angle and jut of her face. Overall, she just looked sweet and innocent and hungry. Nothing like the rumors of a sex crazed vixen out to get Negan. Sherry saw she was twisting her fingers in the hem of her maroon shirt.

Dwight's voice was much gentler when he spoke to the girl. “Nayna, I do need you to hand me your bow and your gun. And any knives you may have.”

She scowled, bringing her thick brows together as she obediently unstrapped her bow from her back and handed her gun and quiver over to Dwight. “Take care of those. They're...they mean a lot to me.”

Dwight nodded, sliding the gun into his belt and her bow over his shoulder.“Of course. Nayna, this is Sherry. Sherry, will get you set up.”

Sherry almost stuck her hand out at Nayna, but then thought better of it. Nayna was going to be, or already was, one of them. Instead she slid an arm around her shoulders and smiled down at her. “This way, hun. We'll get you cleaned up and set with some new clothes.”

The girl nodded and Dwight gave them both a tight lipped smile before turning away. 

“Dwight,” Sherry called after him. He gave an audible sigh and turned back to them. “What?”

“Can you have them bring hot water for a bath up to the spare room?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he grumbled and stalked off.

The girl's eyes followed him into the darkness of the floor. Sherry wasn't sure, but she thought she saw pity. If Dwight had seen it, he'd have been pissed. If there was one thing he hated, it was being felt sorry for.

Sherry guided her towards the catwalks and helped her up the stairs. Nayna hung onto the railing, grimacing, her eyes glued to her feet. The catwalks weren't that high, but they could be intimidating to someone who wasn't used to them.

“You'll get used to this in no time, I promise,” Sherry said, adjusting her arm so it was about Nayna's waist instead of her shoulders.

“I hope so. I really hate heights,” she said in a very small voice. “Where are we going?”

“Just to get you set up with some new clothes and to get you cleaned up.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, still concentrating on her footsteps as they clanged down the abandoned floor.

They wove through the maze of floors and catwalks and darkened corridors. Nayna didn't say much, though her eyes darted around as if she were trying to memorize where they were and where they were going. Hell, even Sherry had trouble sometimes.

“Here we are,” Sherry said, pushing a door open. 

She smiled at Nayna's raised brows and open mouth. “Take your pick.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah.”

The room was positively stuffed with racks and racks and racks of clothing. Everything imaginable. Even the girls sometimes felt awed. For Sherry all this was old hat. She'd helped the other four girls when each of them were new.

A desk and a chair were pushed haphazardly into the corner. An open notebook lay on the desk, covered in crumbs. Sherry laughed as Beverly—whom everyone called Bevs—the night attendant, hastily shoved her dinner in her mouth. The older woman pushed her glasses back onto her face and brushed at her chest.

“Can I—oh Sherry...” Bevs said, squinting up at them. “Who's this?'

“Hey Bevs, this is Nayna,” Sherry put her hands on Nayna's shoulders and pushed her forward. “We're here to get her outfitted.”

Bevs shifted her old lady glasses further up her nose and looked Nayna up and down. “Nayna hm? What size are you, hon?”

She dusted the crumbs off the notebook.

Nayna shrugged. “I don't even know anymore.”

Bevs laughed. “Yeah, we got a lot of that nowadays.”

“Try somethings on,” Sherry said, putting her hands on Nayna's shoulders. “And we'll probably give you some stuff in a size up. Negan will probably want to fatten you up a little.”

Sherry pinched Nayna's hip, making her gasp and wriggle away. But Sherry and Bevs only laughed.

“Come on, hun. It's like shopping, only better,” Sherry said grinning down at her. Poor girl seemed so anxious, prone to darting away at anytime, like a baby bunny.

She tugged on Nayna's hand and dragged her over to the first rack, while Bevs came behind Nayna and pulled out the tag on her shirt and then the tag for her leggings. The poor girl flushed, but Bevs snapped the waistband and slapped her on the bottom.

“Let's get to it,” Bevs said.

Sherry pawed through the clothes and tossed stuff in Nayna's direction. Every once in a while she'd catch a glance at her face.

The third time Sherry stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. “Negan likes it when we dress a little sexy.”

The girl raised a brow. “A little?”

“You'll see,” Sherry sighed and put a corset and a pair of panties on the top of the pile in Nayna's arms. “That should work for now. Try them on,” Bevs said.

“Where can I...” Nayna asked, looking around.

“Here is fine, dear. I'll just go stand at the door so no one walks in,” Bevs patted Nayna's shoulder encouragingly and exchanged a look with Sherry.

“I'll help you,” Sherry said, piling the clothes on the desk as Bevs went into the hall.

As she helped Nayna undress, she couldn't help but wince at the sheer amount of scarring and bruising over the girls thin, almost emaciated body. She could count every rib, every bone under Nayna's skin. Would Negan really find this attractive? She hoped so for Nayna's sake. But then again he'd liked her before.

Times like this made her miss Dwight and his warm arms. He had loved her always, no matter what, unconditionally. And she betrayed him. Or that's what it felt like, even though they'd made the decision for her to become Negan's wife jointly. She should have said no. But there was no going back. Even if she did, things would never be the same between her and Dwight. He'd never be able to look at her the same.

Sherry tied the blue halter top around Nayna's ribs. It was a bit big, but if Negan fattened her up, it would look really nice. Nayna wriggled into a short black skirt.

“You look--”

“--like a five dollar hooker?” Nayna said, smiling at Sherry over her shoulder. It was the first smile she'd seen on the girl all night.

“I was going to say sexy, but that works too,” Sherry teased.

“It's just what I wanted to be when I grew up,” Nayna joked. 

Sherry smiled. She couldn't help but like her. Nayna's joke had broken some of the tension in her face and Sherry saw a soft glow behind her eyes.

“Who would have thought?” Sherry said, untying the top and Nayna shrugged out of it.

Nayna's eyes met Sherry's. “What's it like here?”

“It's not so bad. Pretty much everyone gets fed, a place to sleep, a set of clothes. Anything extra you have to work for besides your regular job. Everyone pitches in. Most people are nice, hard working people. Good people,” Sherry picked up another tight fitting top and handed it to her.

Nayna pulled it over her head and wrinkled her nose. “I need a bra.”

“Here,” Sherry said, pulling one from the clothes pile. “But it's different for us.”

“'Us?'”

“You're...you and Negan...”

“Oh,” Nayna's cheeks bloomed a pretty pink. “Yeah. I just didn't know if...”

“It's not awkward anymore don't worry. There's five—sorry six—of us now. We're all fed well, we all have our own rooms, mattresses, things like that. As many clothes as we want, within reason. In exchange for living with Negan. And he's not that bad, honestly...”

Nayna pulled the shirt off and let Sherry help her adjust the very lacey bra. She made a face and scratched at the sides of her large breasts before pulling the top down and smoothing her hands over her stomach.

Sherry helped her into the next skirt. “But like I said, he's not that bad. He doesn't hit us. He yells a bit but...he's not that bad,” she finished lamely.

“I know,” Nayna smiled slightly. “He's a dick.”

Sherry froze. “Don't ever let anyone hear you say that. Especially him.”

“I tell him he's a dick all the time,” Nayna said, furrowing her brow.

Sherry turned Nayna towards her and grasped her arms. “I don't know how he'd feel about that here, Nayna. I wouldn't risk it if I were you. His temper...”

“I can handle his temper,” Nayna said, her fingers stroking the yellowing bruise on her neck.

Sherry's blood ran cold. He'd never once put his hands on any of them before. Not even during sex. Not even when he wanted it rough. 

“Did he do that?” Sherry asked, peering at the mark, peeling Nayna's hand away. It looked a few weeks old.

Nayna nodded. “We got a little carried away.”

“And your face?”

“I fell,” she said. Sherry pressed her lips together. Could a fall really cause all that? Or was Nayna just being delusional?

Sherry sucked her bottom lip in, gnawing on it. She hoped Nayna wasn't bringing that side of Negan out along with her. She wished she could ask for Dwight's opinion, but even if she could he wouldn't answer her anyway...


	32. The Presents We Give

NAYNA

Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Her fingernails clanged on the railing, as she stared into the empty, yet Walker filled expanse. How she longed to be in the woods, hunting or roaming. Doing anything but waiting, waiting, waiting.

Dwight cleared his throat, but she ignored him, preferring to hang over the railing with her hair in her eyes, pretending she was alone. But since she came to the Sanctuary she almost never spent time alone. A rotation of Negan's other wives whirled in and out of her bed. 

She'd come for Negan. Everyone promised, soon, soon, soon he would be back and yet no one would fucking tell her where he was. The excitement, the dread were all replaced by longing and anger. She'd left her home for him and he wasn't even fucking here.

There were more shuffling footsteps and a wheezy voice muttering something unintelligible to Dwight. She knew that voice, would know it anywhere. Nayna turned and smiled at cotton haired Gus. Easy-going Gus who let her get away with murder. And smoking.

“Got a cig for me, good lookin'?” she grinned and tilted her head to the side.

Gus shook his head. “Not today sweets.”

He exchanged a look with Dwight who nodded. 

Nayna turned back to stare at the vast concrete forest, watching the Walkers sway back and forth, rattling their chains and jingling the fence. “Gettin awfully bored just sitting around here.”

“Not much else for you to do right now, sweets. Just sit tight until the boss gets home.”

“I'm terrible at doing nothing. I miss doing things...and stuff. I miss hunting and farming and guard duty and baking and all the stupid things I'm so terrible at. All I do here is complain and eat and workout. I can't even shoot my bow for fun,” she muttered.

“Enjoy your vacation,” Dwight said dryly. Nayna only shook her shaggy hair and snorted.

Maybe she should let Sherry cut her hair or do fucking something to it. The humidity was so bad she looked like a pouffy brown poodle sometimes. Today was no better, but at least it wasn't hot. Though she preferred the heat to the humidity. 

Behind her there was more shuffling and more muffled voices, but she didn't pay attention to them, instead counting the beats of the chains clanging against the fence, and the soft sighs of the wind. This was the closest she was ever going to get to her freedom again. She could feel it in her bones. 

So many things she traded for Negan. For security. For love. For her happiness. For the safety of her people. And she still thought of the Alexandrians as her people. She still wanted to protect them. She could do it better here, at the Sanctuary than she ever could back at Alexandria.

But she would have Negan. And she knew he'd hold up his end of the deal, so long as she held up hers.

There was a cough behind her that interrupted her thoughts, annoying her. And then the same man who coughed spoke.

“Doll?”

She whirled around and there he was, standing in all his leathered glory, brows knitted to together, his hard eyes searching her face. The urge to run to him, to throw herself at him burned strong and bright, but instead she leaned back and grasped the railing behind her as if she feared falling. His gaze shifted from her face to her throat and then to her breasts heaving up and down. A flicker of hunger and sorrow flashed over his face before the hardened, sexy scowl returned. Her eyes traveled down to his almost pouty lips and she wanted them—no him—so bad it hurt. 

Nayna dragged her tongue along her bottom lip and Negan's eyes lit up with hot desire. 

“Leave us,” he said to Dwight and Gus. And they did, obeying without question. Everyone obeyed Negan without question it seemed. Everyone except her.

After the doors had shut behind Dwight, he advanced on her, eyes never leaving her face. Her knuckles burned as she gripped the railing harder to match with the drumming of her heart. With his every step forward she could feel his heat sinking into her body and when he stepped directly in front of her, she was positively on fire, every nerve in her body firing at rapid speed. He leaned forward, grasping the railing behind her, trapping her in his arms without touching her. She turned her face up to gaze into his glittering eyes and she could feel the whisper of his heavy breath blowing over her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut as he bent down to brush his lips along hers. 

She'd been mildly worried he wouldn't kiss her, as he claimed he never kissed any of his wives. 

But kiss her he did, with his expert lips parting her own, his explorative tongue mapping every inch of her lips and the tongue that eagerly rose up to meet his. She let go of the railing and rested her hands on his hips, drawing him close. He would never be close enough for her. Feeling the beginnings of hardness along the lower half of her belly, and the tingling fire rising within her.

Her cracked, split lip ached from the pressure, but it was a good ache. An ache she missed sorely. One that only Negan and his lips could soothe. And she let him wash over her like a cool balm, erasing all signs of the fight she'd had with Rick, all the strife of the past three years and all the tragedy of her twenty-nine years of life. He was all that mattered.

As loathe as she was to admit it, she felt a genuine happiness for the first time in her life.

He unraveled his fingers from the railing and drew his hands over her hips and up the sides of her belly, coming to cup both her breasts and squeeze before stopping at her neck. She shuddered as the leather of his gloves pulled across the skin of her throat. What she wouldn't give to have him slip a gloved finger inside of her for the sensation alone.

She must have mewled into his mouth, because he was making those delightful grunting noises she loved so much. It was almost like a contest for the both of them. Seeing who could make who whimper or moan more. Part of the constant contest of wills between them. 

Negan tipped her face upwards, cradling the nape of her neck in his hand and sucked her lower lip between his. Another moan escaped her lips and she willingly pressed her breasts into his chest. The morning sun beat down on them, but its heat was nothing compared to the burning within. Nayna's hand moved from his hip to his belly, sliding between their bodies and wandering down. In a flash his gloved hand clamped around her wrist and he broke the kiss. Her eyes snapped open and she found him staring down at her with more than want, more than longing. He looked at her as if he fucking needed her, and needed her at that exact moment. 

“Come,” he growled in a throaty, hoarse voice.

“Out here?” she grinned cheekily, but allowed Negan to pull her inside.

“Wherever I fucking damn well please, doll,” he grunted.

She giggled and he threw her an amused look before his eyes turned steely again. With his fingers wrapped around her small wrist, he dragged her down the hall. She stumbled a few times, trying to keep up with his long determined strides. They weaved their way in and out of people working on the factory floor. 

As soon as they realized it was Negan people fell to their knees. Her brow twitched, but Negan paid them no heed, instead leading her up the catwalk stairs and then down a corridor. 

“Hey, boss,” Dwight said, stepping in their path. 

Negan glowered at him. “What ever the fuck it is, I don't fucking care and make yourself fucking scarce and useful until tomorrow fucking morning. For now, I have a fuckin bone to bury.”

Her mouth dropped open and her entire face turned red. Before she could protest, Negan was tugging on her wrist, dragging her back down the corridor toward his rooms, leaving a tight lipped Dwight behind.

Negan shoved open the door to the living area. The other wives all glanced up and then back down when they saw him barreling through with Nayna in tow. They didn't say anything to him and he didn't say anything to him. It must have been a common enough occurrence because the girls all went back to whatever they'd been doing before.

He shoved his door open and propelled her forward into the room. She staggered in, stumbling across the room until she crashed face first on the bed. The door slammed shut behind her and Negan's heavy tread thumped up behind her.

“That's a nice fucking view, doll,” he grinned, openly admiring her ass. 

She wriggled her hips in his direction and gasped when his hand came into contact with her ass leaving a stinging pain behind.

He bent forward, pressing his erection into her backside, and growled in her ear, “Yeah, I bet you fucking like being spanked, don't you, you fucking dirty girl.”

“Um,” she mumbled, blushing even more. 

He only laughed and jerked her hips back against him more, grinding his front to her back. “Stand up, now.”

She found herself compelled to obey. There was something about a man giving orders...

One of his hands slipped under the black fabric of her shirt, sliding over the tender skin of her belly, lifting the shirt to reveal her racy bra. He nipped her ear and she gasped again.

“Mmm, I fucking love this on you,” he murmured, fingering the purple and black bra that jammed her breasts together. She didn't exactly love it, because she constantly felt like she was bulging out and always one small disaster away from a nip slip, but she loved his reaction to it.

“Arms up, doll.”

She lifted her arms and he tickled his gloved fingers up her ribs, making her shriek and squirm, clasping her arms to her chest. As he guided her shirt up her body she hesitantly raised her arms, allowing him to slide it off. He dropped it on the floor at their feet. She shuddered when he splayed his hands on her back, the cool leather sending shivers riveting up and down her body. The sensation of him touching her without really touching her was driving her wild.

He shrugged himself out of his jacket, tossing it on the couch as Nayna watched him from over her shoulder. She smiled at him When he made to take the gloves off Nayna whispered, “Don't. Touch me with them on.”

A wide grin spread onto his face and he put his hands on her lower back, dragging them forward across her tummy, sending her into near convulsions at the idea of him fucking her but not really fucking her. A moan escaped her lips and Negan pulled her flush against him, belly to back, pressing his hard-on against her. He kissed his way from her jaw to her neck.

He sighed as he rubbed his lips along her neck. “You're so thin, doll. I thought I fucking told you to take care of yourself. You're fucking smaller than I left you three and a half weeks ago.”

“I've gained five pounds since I've been here,” she murmured into her other shoulder.

“You've...gained...five...pounds...What the fuck?”

His hands grabbed her hips and he spun her around, making the world spin with her. She blinked back the dizziness, focusing on a point over his shoulder as he maneuvered her to sit on the bed. “Don't worry, my love. I fully intend to take advantage of the food here. I'll be fat in no time.”

“Why are you so fucking thin? And why do you look like you got into a fucking fight? And don't fucking lie to me, doll,” he said, his tone as smooth as liquid gold and just as menacing.

“I lost a lot of weight when I was traveling here. I had to walk for almost a week to get here. I ate what I could, but it wasn't much. So I lost a little weight,” she shrugged. “I'm here now. As for the cuts, remember I was traveling alone, so I didn't have anyone to watch my back. I fell a few times, that's all.”

Nayna reached up and stroked her knuckles over his rough, stubbly cheek. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. And then he squeezed his fist over hers, staring at her with hard, dancing eyes.

He towered over her. “Why are you here?”

Nayna leaned forward into his chest, sighing. “Can't we just make love now and discuss this later?”

“Oh, fuck no. Not fucking now. You're fucking hiding something from me, doll,” he snapped and threw her hand down. 

When she looked up at him she swore she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes. She licked her lips.

“Rick and I had a fight and I said something...” her voice shook, but she kept on, looking into his eyes the whole time. “I said something horrible to him and he said some horrible things to me and I realized that I couldn't do it anymore.”

“Do what?”

Nayna glanced down at her hands.“I couldn't be dragged between my best friend and my husband. So I made my choice. I choose you, Joe.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” She furrowed her brow and tilted her head to the side, trying to read his almost cold inscrutable face. There was something in his eyes she couldn't figure out. Was it desire? Was it anger? Or was it something along the lines of numbness, as if he didn't want to feel anything. Numbness with a hint of betrayal. And suddenly she felt sorry for him and sorry for what she'd done. 

“Why choose me and not fucking Rick?” Negan asked, putting his hands on his hips.

Nayna shivered under his glare. She wrapped her arms around her waist, suddenly aware that she was nearly topless. “Because you're my husband and that means something to me.”

“And him being your fucking best friend doesn't mean shit?”

She shook her head. “It's not that man anymore. He's not the man I...He's not you, Joe.”

He worked his jaw back and forth, staring at the windows behind the bed. She just wanted to wrap herself in his arms, to be close to him. Why couldn't he see that? Why couldn't he see that she'd been backed into a corner and she was running to the only man who she thought would understand what she'd been up against? Someone who should have known her so well. But rick should have known her well enough too. Did no one fucking care to realize her thoughts, her feelings? To take her into consideration? Here she was, fucking putting everything on the line, again. What about her happiness? 

The more she watched him, the more angry she grew, until her stupid tongue blurted out, “He fucking kissed me. He fucking kissed me and I kissed back for a second. That's why I left. Because I don't ever want anything like that happening again. Because I don't want to be around Rick anymore. I don't belong there anymore. But I belong here because I belong to you. Don't you fucking see? I came all this way for you. And here you are, throwing Rick in my face.”

His nostrils flared and for a moment she was irrationally afraid he was going to breathe fire. “He fucking did what?”

“You heard me,” she snapped, suddenly glad to have somewhere to divert the pent up anger. She was tired of being a fucking pawn in their games. Tired of being shoved aside. Tired of being afraid. Tired of not being herself because she was afraid to anger people.

“I know I fucking heard you. I know what you fucking said, but I was fucking hoping that I had gone momentarily deaf or fucking stupid and didn't fucking hear that you kissed another fucking man while married to me, doll,” he snarled.

She stood up and slapped her hand against his chest, narrowing her eyes. “I regretted it the moment I did it. I could have lied and said Rick was an asshole and kissed me. I could have fucking left it at that, but I choose to tell you the truth because I feel the need to be completely honest with you. I came here to get over Rick and start my life with you. I came here because I couldn't fucking stand the way people looked at me, with horror, with anger, with fucking pity. I came here because I love you and you make me feel wanted and desired and...I came here because at the end of all this, you would be here. And I came here to stop Rick from doing something fucking stupid.”

Negan cocked his head to the side. “Fucking go on.”

She smiled malevolently. “I think you know exactly what I mean, Joe. We both know Rick's temperament. Rick might be an angry ass, but he wouldn't do anything that could bring me to harm. We've been through so much together, regardless of everything else, there is a bond there that you can't break. It doesn't mean I can't walk away when I choose, and I have chosen. And we may have our differences, but in the end, Rick and I would both lay our lives on the line for each other. And I would lay mine down for you. And I have. I've made it so you have leverage. I trust you, I fucking love you, and now you're even more in control than you were before. I just gave you all the power wrapped up in a pretty black satin bow.”


	33. The Rules We Follow

NEGAN

“I just gave you all the power wrapped up in a pretty black satin bow.”

He stared at her until she sat back down on the bed with her arms wrapped around her pale stomach and her pink cheek resting on her shoulder. Though her demeanor seemed shy and aloof, there was a blazing fire in her eyes that set his heart to bursting. The same type of look she'd given him when she met him for the first time, the same look she had when they'd made love for the first time and the same exact look she had when she agreed to be his wife. Her gaze was filled with want and determination and desire and a fierce sense of independence. She was so unlike most of the women he knew or had ever known.

Shifting lightly from foot to foot, he stared her down, the pure heat of her gaze making him uncomfortable. He hated the way she looked at him and yet, he never her to stop looking at him like that, never wanted her to look at another man like that. His blood pumped in time with his heart, all heading south, all because of that heady, heady stare. He fucking wanted to claim her, again and again. And he fucking would.

He advanced on her, making her tilt her head far back to keep her eyes locked with his. A grin formed on his lips as her cheeks flooded with color, and her breasts heaved up and down with her labored breaths. The dancing light in her eyes smoldered into a deeper kind of fire, a hungry, insatiable flame, beckoning him even closer, until he stood between her legs.

And he bent down to taste the sweetness of her lips, the tart of her tongue. She willingly opened herself up to him, grasping the nape of his neck, clinging to him as he picked her small body up with ease and laid her gently back on the bed, their lips never breaking apart. 

There was a fury of clothes flying in all directions as they eagerly undressed each other. He rolled her on her back, stroking every inch he could reach of her, but it wasn't enough. Being inside of her wouldn't fucking be enough. Not anymore. But fuck, if he wasn't inside of her soon, he would go fucking crazy. A beautiful laugh, clear as a bell, rang through his room as he caressed her side. 

Negan captured her hands and pinned her wrists above her head as he ran his tongue up between her breasts and stopped to give hungry suckling kisses to the bruises on her neck. Her moans vibrated under his lips and he grinned, thoroughly encouraged. He brought his thigh up between her legs, pressing against her core whilst his erection pressed into the sensitive flesh of her belly. A soft sigh fluttered from her lips as he jostled his leg, and his dick, back and forth.

He moved from her throat, kissing his way to one of her large, soft tits, swirling, swirling his tongue around her nipple until she grew hard. Then he applied the same treatment to the other nipple. By the end she writhed and bucked against him, trying to yank her wrists from his steel grasp.

“Joe,” she panted, lips parted, eyes wild. “Please.”

“Patience, doll. I want to fucking enjoy your body now that I have it all to my fucking self,” he growled.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered and he nearly exploded right then and there.

He pulled one of her hands down and she willingly wrapped her fingers around him, stroking him in a gentle, slow rhythm that was bound to drive him insane. With his now free hand he wriggled his fingers between their bodies, exchanging his thigh for his fingers. He groaned, feeling the heated wetness between her soft folds. The urge to be inside of her burned from his belly to the tip of his hard-on. He fucking needed her, ached for her, longed for her.

Three fucking weeks since he'd last been inside of her. Three long, never fucking ending weeks. One of them spent in fucking Alexandria waiting for her. And she hadn't come back. She'd been here the whole time, waiting for him.

He nearly laughed at the thought, instead turning his face towards hers to draw her into a deep, greedy kiss. How long they stayed like that, eagerly stroking each other with their hands, their mouths, he didn't know, but he knew that he needed to be inside of her, now, so he pulled her hand away from him. She whimpered in protest, but didn't fight, instead opening her legs further, inviting him in.

“Do you want me to fuck you, doll?” he teased against her lips.

“Please,” she moaned.

“I don't fucking believe you,” he grinned.

“Joe,” she squinted up at him impatiently. “If you don't fuck me right now—oh! Yes!”

 

Negan cradled her head against his chest, pushing the hair from her eyes as they both lay panting and spent. Her beautiful, fiery eyes were closed, as if she slept, but he knew better by the way her fingers glided back and forth over the fur of his lower belly. Warm sleep lapped over him, and he allowed his eyes to close as he was rocked to sleep.

“Tell me something,” she murmured, starting him awake. He blinked a few times to see her sleepy face gazing up at him with a dreamy smile. He palmed the back of her head and pressed her cheek back onto his shoulder, sliding his arm about her, tickling her ribs. She squirmed delightfully against him and slapped his hand away.

“What, doll?” he asked, smiling and resting his cheek on the crown of her head.

“What happened to Dwight?” she asked, her voice wholly innocent and curious. Too innocent.

He stiffened. He didn't like to tell her such things. Didn't know why he felt hesitant. But she would learn somewhere. Or she probably already had and just wanted manipulate him into saying it, which annoyed the ever loving shit out of him.

He sighed. “When I take a wife, I fucking expect total devotion and obedience. Dwight and Sherry used to be lovers. They thought that could fucking continue after she fucking agreed to be one of my wives. They fucking thought wrong.”

She'd opened her eyes and pulled her face back to look at him, frowning. “Why wouldn't you just let her go back?”

He looked down at her, regarding her with a cold gaze, making her recoil slightly, though he held onto her tightly. “She didn't want to go back. And I couldn't fucking have Dwight fucking disrespecting me like that. She could have gone back and it would have been the fucking end of that shit. But she fucking didn't and I had to fucking do what I had to fucking do.”

Nayna lay her head back down on his chest and closed her eyes. “It seems awfully cruel, Joe.”

“There are rules in place for a fucking reason, doll. Do you know the reason for the rules?” his voice dripped with ice and venom at the reproach in hers.

“I...I don't know,” she shivered, goosebumps popping up on her delicate flesh. He resisted the urge to smooth his hands over her skin. She busied herself with tracing little patterns in his chest hair and he tried to keep himself calm and level, reminding himself she was just asking questions. And because it was Nayna he'd answer them. 

“The rules keep us alive. Now say it with me.”

“The rules keep us alive,” she whispered, opening her eyes to look at him. The fire was back again, making his lips twitch. 

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Good girl. Now...would you like to fucking hear the rules?”

She raised her brows at him. “Yes.”

Nayna pushed herself up, crossing her legs, looking down at him as she draped herself with the sheets. He almost wish she'd stayed naked so he would have something nice to look at while he told her the rules that he knew would piss her off. He rolled on his side and propped himself up, his temple resting on his hand as he stared up at her.

“Firstly, I don't usually make fucking deals, Nayna. I am the one in charge, I am the leader. These fuckers look up to me, expect me to be the one who rules the roost. I enjoy you doll, but you can't fucking run over me like you did in Alexandria. I will shut that shit down quick and you won't fucking like the consequences. And it won't be the iron. You only got away with that shit because I was fucking already coming down hard on Alexandria.”

And because he wanted to fuck with Rick, and she was fun to play with. But now it was different and they were no longer playing a childish game. He no longer wanted to play with her, but instead keep her.

She shivered and nodded. “I understand. The last thing I want to do is upset you.”

He could see in her eyes that she was quite displeased, but she caressed his face anyway. He turned his head and kissed her palm. 

“I don't make deals,” he repeated and then sighed. “I...I'm not taking another fucking wife. You are the last fucking wife. But from here on out, there are no more deals. You fucking obey me, got it?”

She nodded again, glancing at him with her big eyes.

“Good. Secondly, as my wife, you are to comport yourself with the dignity I require to maintain your status. Now for you, that's a little different. My other wives are here because they want to be. You've fucked yourself sideways, Nayna. Because you cannot fucking leave. And you cannot leave me. You cannot make me look like a fucking fool in front of my men. Goes back to rule number one, doll.”

She tilted her head to the side. “I don't plan to leave you, love. I just...”

“Look, doll,” he sat up and tilted her chin to gaze into her apprehensive eyes. “I know this is a hard fucking pill to swallow. But you fucking have to understand that I am the fucking leader and as one of my wives, and a fucking outsider, your behavior reflects on me. One of the things I love best about you is your sarcasm and your saltiness. But that shit needs to be cut off before you go too fucking far. These rules aren't fucking here to oppress you or what the fuck ever, they're here to ensure that my leadership isn't fucking compromised. Because if that fucking happens, you'll be the second to go. You fucking know that.”

“I know that. I know I put you in a bad position before too,” she said, looking down at her hands which were twisting in the sheets. “I'm just not used to...”

“You'll get used to it, doll. Now, you will eat, you will sleep, you will fucking work out, you will be available for sex when I need it. When I want it. Or,” he chuckled. “When you're so horny you can fucking stand another minute without me inside of your fucking pussy. 

“You will not flirt with other men. You will not dream of Rick. You will not think of Rick. You will never fucking say his name again. I am your husband, and mine is the only name that belongs on your lips. You will not use my first name in front of anyone. Ever. You may use it when we're alone and that is it. Got it?”

Her brow twitched. “Yes, Negan.”

“Hm. Thirdly, anything that goes on in this room or between you and I stays here. You will not discuss anything we say or do with my other wives, or anyone on the floor. As I've told you before, my wives are not allowed to touch me without my permission or to kiss me ever. This is one of the only fucking exceptions I'm willing to make for you, doll. I don't want you flapping your fucking yap and making the rest of their panties all fucking twisted. Too much fucking drama. I don't fucking deal with drama.”

“Understood.”

“Fourth, you will not keep secrets from me. You will tell me everything, down to your last fucking bowel movement. Do you know why?”

A hint of a smile played on her lips. “Because I belong to you?”

Negan laughed. “You fuckin got it, doll. You belong to me.”

He couldn't quite read the expression on her face. The only word he could come up with was thoughtful as she tugged on the sheets. 

“Now, because you are my wife there are certain freedoms you get. You don't have to fucking work for your supper. You don't have to earn points. You can have as much clothing as you'd like. You can pretty much do anything you fucking like within reason, within the rules. And,” he grinned at her and tipped her chin up again, looking into her eyes. “I usually don't fucking tolerate back talk or fucking sarcasm or saltiness, but if you fucking keep it in check, I will fucking overlook it and maybe even fucking enjoy it. As long as you appear devoted to me, those dumb fucks down there won't know the fucking difference. I wouldn't want to fucking crush your spirit. Your salty attitude is one of the reasons I fell for you in the first place. But if you take it too far, it ends. Period.”

A strange, puzzled look passed over her face and her eyes darted from side to side as if she were searching for something in his. He frowned at her and she turned her face away and he noticed her jaw was stiff and her breathing was rapid.

“Don't fucking worry, doll. You'll get used to the rules.”

“Yeah,”she said sarcastically. “The rules keep me safe.”

“They do doll. I'm trying to keep you safe, to keep you from being a target to others, from being a target to my other wives. If I show you too much favoritism, that puts a fucking target on your back. And on mine. I can't fucking have people thinking that I'm fucking whipped.” 

For a split second, hurt splashed over her face, but she quickly replaced it with an emotionless, placid expression. 

“I realize this is chapping your ass. Not being able to go outside...I fucking know you doll. I think I might be the only man in the world who fucking understands exactly who you are.”

“It's not even that, Joe,” she sighed and pushed away from him, sliding off the bed, dragging the sheets with her.

“Well, what the fuck is it?” he asked, annoyed.

She shook her head and crept over to the window, where the sun had finally hit its peak. “I couldn't explain it to you if I tried.”

Fucking wonderful. She was pulling the typical woman act on him. If his mood had been annoyed before, it was positively sour now. He fucking hated female drama, hated the oh-please-pull-the-answer-out-of-me-while-I-pretend-to-be-coy act. He was damn disappointed to find Nayna so different and yet just like every other woman.

Negan rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, annoyed with himself for being disappointed. Why should he? She was just another wife. Just another typical fucking stereotypical woman.

He glanced over to find her smiling sadly at him and he rolled his eyes. “What?”

“I love you.”

Or not. Even though her eyes were glistening and her smile was sad, she was looking at him as if...as if he was her whole world. He passed a rough hand over his face. What the fuck did she fucking want from him?

“Doll, what the fuck?” he finally sighed.

But again she shook her head, this time withdrawing from him fully, her eyes shifting out of focus as she stared at something only she could see.


	34. Dear Diary

**I thought I was lonely back at Alexandria. Boy was I stupid. I'm far more lonely here. The people, the place, my things...none of it is familiar. None of it feels comfortable. I came here to see Negan more and I feel like I see him less. I feel like I'm just another wife, competing for his attention. Not that there is much competition. Amber is afraid of him (I mean they all are to some extent), Sherry quietly despises him, Jennifer is apathetic and I'm pretty sure Maria and Carrie are just using him for protection.**

**I've always been able to see both sides and now my mind is so muddled that every time I try to make sense of anything it's like slogging through a swamp. I can't even make heads or tails about Negan's feelings for me. Before I felt special and wanted and now I feel like I'm just here. He's pulled back so much that I wonder if any of it was real.**

**Part of me wishes I had never left Alexandria. Wish I had never said what I said to Rick. Wish I hadn't fucked myself over. Negan is right, I'm trapped here. Rick and co won't accept me back and...I can't just abandon Negan.**

**He doesn't understand any of it. The things he says, his actions, how he treats me. All of it contradicts each other and yet, I get it. I get that he's pushing me away because he doesn't want me to get too close. He's just like me. He's afraid if people get too close then he'll be vulnerable. Which is true. But I guess the difference is that I at least try to get past that. I try to let people in. Of course then I shove them away. Rick is a good case in point.**

**From what I've observed Negan doesn't let any of the girls sleep over in his room and yet I get to. But he sleeps with me less often than he does some of the other girls. He fucking sits down and has dinner with me almost every day, but then he takes another girl to his bed. And I go to bed those nights wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.**

**I've been doing everything he's asked. Gained some weight, started working out, taking care of myself. Hell I even do my hair more often now. Like, I fucking flat iron it. I haven't used a fucking flat iron in three years, I haven't worn make up in three years, haven't had pretty clothes in three years. All of it is just super-fucking-ficial, though. I'd rather be mucking through the woods with nothing than here with all these New World luxuries, as long as I'm with Negan. But he wouldn't be happy. Not that he's actually happy now.**

**I made the mistake of asking who Lucille was one night after sex. He shoved me off the bed, yelled at me to fucking get dressed and get the fuck out. Told me never to talk about her again. To be honest, he scared me that night. And you know I don't get scared easily.**

**I never meant to hurt him. I just want to understand him. He says he's the only man who understands me, and I wish he would realize that I want to be that woman to him. The one he leans on when he needs me...I'm laughing now, but I realize I want to be to him what I was to Rick once. It's a bitter, cold laugh, but still, ironic as fuck.**

**He acted like it never happened the next day, instead taking Amber to his bed that morning, while the rest of us ate breakfast and listened to both their exaggerated moans and whimpers. I plastered a big fucking fake ass smile on my face, and made stupid small talk with Sherry (I fucking hate small talk). And then I crept into my room to 'read.' Instead I just laid on the bed and cried, wondering what was wrong with me.**

**After I'd cried myself out I reached into my bag and drew out the only picture I had of everyone and stared at it for a long while. Back at the prison where...where I had started to allow myself to feel happy again, happy and hopeful. I hadn't realized I was in love with Rick then, but I suppose I knew it on some level. And I was waiting for him. Always waiting.**

**I had to stuff it away when I heard footsteps beyond the door. But it had only been Carrie, knocking and asking if I wanted to come play cards with her and Maria. I pretended to be asleep. I just want to be left alone.**

**I don't know who I am anymore. What's wrong with me? I never used to be this girl that relied on everyone else's feelings or desires or whatever. I used to be strong and independent and....now I'm nothing. I'm a shadow of my former self.**

**This feels worse than even the worst things I've done to survive. This is worse than shooting that man in the shack or covering for Shane.**

**Who am I? What have I become?**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of quick things :)  
> Firstly, has anyone ever had a project that they're 3/4th of the way through--so close to finishing--and yet they are just feeling stagnant? That's how I'm feeling. And I realize I felt this way before when I was editing Moonborn. It's a terrible thing of mine. I get partially through a project and then the weight, the idea of finishing it becomes too much. Lately, I've found myself dragging through writing the last few chapters, mostly because I just want this done. I LOVE this story, love writing it, I just want to wrap it up, have a bow on it and call it done! I've put a 3,000 word minimum on myself for each non-diary chapter and lately it's become extremely difficult to hit 3000 words. The last few have been either just barely or not at all. I do this to enhance my writing, to make sure I'm not skipping things, since I have a tendency to rush to finish stuff because anxiety is an asshole. And I absolutely have NO intentions of abandoning it. I'm just having a particularly difficult time emotionally, mentally and physically.   
> Secondly, (and I don't want this to sound like I'm begging for compliments, so apologies if it does) I kinda feel a disconnect between y'all and me. I feel like I'm not getting a lot of feedback recently. I don't know if it's because my writing has been terrible, the characters are unrealistic, people are unhappy with the story, or what's going on in general. I welcome questions, excited comments, and I'd love some constructive criticism. Especially constructive criticism. I want to know what you guys don't like, don't think works about the story. I want to know if the writing is off or if you think I'm portraying a character wrong (especially Negan). Right now I'm trying my best to be as true to the characters as I can (again, especially Negan). And I really do want to know what's going on in your minds before you abandon ship (and it's perfectly fine to do so either way, no hard feelings at all).  
> Lastly, please consider this a first draft. It's why feedback is so, so important. I want to figure out what I'm doing wrong, etc. I do plan to go back and rewrite once the entire story is finished, which is why I hope you guys will stick with me.  
> And now this is longer than the chapter. Sorry guys. But I love you for sticking it out with me. Much love!


	35. The Hurt That Burns Below

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are AWESOME. Have I mentioned that? You really are. I feel so touched by all the feedback, it's amazing and it was all really helpful to me. I realize I sounded like an insecure nutbag, but hey, I'm toddling along on my new writer legs, slowly gaining my footing. And you guys are so helpful!  
> Anyway, I know the consensus was for me to take a break, so I decided to take one long enough to send my husband off. Hopefully, I'm back to updating every other day or so. I really would love to have this 'book' done by July.  
> As always, comments, kudos, whatever are always welcome. Thank you guys!

NAYNA

The echoing of intense rapping pulled her out of the clutches of a nap she hadn't planned on taking. Startled into action, she rolled off the bed, sending Gone With the Wind flying across the room, and stumbled to the chair where her robe was hanging. 

“Second,” she called out, her tongue still thick with sleep, as she shrugged into the robe. Her fingers clumsily pulled the tie closed and she staggered to the door, throwing it open, praying her hair wasn't too messy.

Behind the door she found an annoyed looking Negan. Her heart sank and she looked down at her feet.

“It's ten in the fucking morning. Why the fuck are you still in bed?”

She sighed. It didn't matter that she'd been up from one in the morning until seven in the morning because she couldn't sleep. It didn't matter that she'd crawled into bed to get away from Carrie and Maria's incessant fucking bickering. None of that shit mattered to Negan. And attempting to explain just made her sound like she was full of excuses.

Truth be told, Nayna was tired all the time lately. Whenever Negan wasn't demanding things of her, she sneaked off to take a nap or to read, where she would end up sleeping anyway. And then night would come and she wouldn't be able to drop off. So then she would read or wander around or stand on the balcony and pilfer smokes from anyone who came by.

She'd never smoked so much in her life before. Hell, in the Old World she used to be a social smoker, and only when she was lit. Now, aside from sleep, it was one of the only things to look forward to. She had stopped looking forward to seeing Negan as well. He'd been such an asshole to her lately. Case in point, him glaring down at her, genuinely pissed off. 

Nayna tucked her hair behind her ear. “I'm sorry. Did you need me for something?”

“What? No fucking sarcastic ass comment? I'm fucking disappointed in you, doll.”

She shrugged. She was tired of fighting all the time. Tired of swimming against the current. It was easier just to go with the flow and tread water. But eventually she'd get tired of that too and drown.

“You didn't answer my fucking question.”

“I was actually reading and I dozed off.”

“What were you reading?”

“Gone With the Wind.”

“How many fucking times have you read that book?”

Again, she shrugged and stared at a point off his shoulder. She wished he would go away so she could just sleep some more. Even now, standing up, holding onto the door, her eyes grew heavy and she had to blink rapidly to keep herself awake. God, she hoped he didn't want sex. 

But it was Negan and his eyes were already roaming. He reached out and fingered her robe. “Pretty.”

“Thanks,” she said dully.

He gestured inside her room with a raised brow. “Can I fucking come in or what?”

She opened the door wider and stepped out of his way. He brushed against her as he stepped in the room and her heart gave a trill at his touch. The touch she missed so fucking much. A tiny flicker of annoyance sparkled through her brain, but she quashed it down, too tired to beg. And far too proud. She closed the door and turned back to see him standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he surveyed the clothes strewn on the floor, the bed and the dresser top.

“This place is a fucking mess, doll.”

It's not like she'd expected company, much less his company. 

“I suppose,” she mumbled and shuffled over to the chair, plopping herself down. “What do you want?”

Negan turned to her and put a look of mock hurt on his face. “Doll, what fucking makes you think I want something?”

She snorted and the flicker of annoyance flared up again. “I know you're not here because you're concerned for my well-being. Yo no soy pendejo.”

Even though she wanted to believe he cared, in her heart she wasn't so sure anymore.

His glittering eyes turned to steel as he regarded her. “Is that what you really fucking think of me?”

She looked down at her hands. “Well, Joe—I'm sorry, Negan—that's the impression you've given me.”

Hum. Apparently she did have a spark of fight left. She tucked one leg under her, adjusting her robe so she was mostly covered. Negan's eyes ran up and down her body, but she merely leaned her cheek on her hand, regarding him with a half-lidded gaze.

“Don't be so fuckin dramatic, holy fuckballs,” Negan rolled his eyes and sat on her bed.

She sighed. “What do you want?”

“Jesus fuck, doll. What the fuck makes you think I want something?”

She sat back up and folded her arms over her breasts. “Because you never do anything altruistic? There's always something in it for you.”

“What, the pleasure of my fucking company isn't enough for you anymore, doll?” he asked, his smile a mixture of teasing and smirking. But she was less than amused. Honestly, she just wanted him to go away so she could sleep more.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Just say your piece then, you've been fucking chewing on it long enough.”

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, glaring at her. “You're really starting to piss me off right the fuck now, Meghan.”

She threw her hands up in the air in a gesture of defeat. “When don't I piss you off anymore?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Negan put a fist to his forehead and took in several deep breaths. “Doll, what the fuck is going on with you? Since you've gotten here you've done nothing but mope and sleep and pout and look like a fucking kicked puppy dog...And fucking smoke. It's fucking annoying and not sexy at all.”

She put her hands on the arms of the chair and pushed herself forward, staring into those beautiful glittery, hazel eyes. “Since I've gotten here I've been ignored, used for sex only a handful of times, I've been screamed at by you several times, had several insulting comments thrown my way by you and others, had you slap my ass in front of everyone with your fucking ping pong paddle and overall been humiliated by you. You've treated every other wife, Amber included, way better than me. I came here for you. And all I get are the dregs. You don't even make love to me anymore. So yeah, I fucking mope and sleep and pout and smoke. Why? Because there is nothing else for me.”

He furrowed his brows at her. “What the fuck did you expect when you came here? That you'd be Queen Shit of Asshole mountain? That shit don't fucking fly here and you fucking know it.”

She slapped her palms down hard. “No, but I did expect you to treat me like you treat those other girls. Yeah maybe I had unreasonable, unrealistic expectations, but can you fucking blame me, Negan? The way you treat me here, is worlds different than you treat me here. I thought...”

“You fucking thought what?” he snarled, gritting his teeth.

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, Negan, it doesn't even fucking matter. Because it's you. Even if I sat you down and patted your hand and explained the problem you would find some excuse as to how it's not your fault.”

“As would you.”

“Well, we always said I was the kettle, didn't we?” she sneered.

Negan sighed and rubbed his temple, seemingly not the only one who didn't want to fight. But it was Negan and fight they would.“Right now, looking at you, doll, all I see is a spoiled brat who is fucking stomping her feet because she hasn't gotten her way.”

She leaned back, sliding her leg out from under her, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I see a dickbag without an ounce of empathy not giving a shit how he makes me feel.”

Negan rolled his eyes. “I'm not here to fucking lift your feelings, your self-esteem or whatever bullshit your fucking generation came up with.”

She snorted. “No, instead you kick sand in my face and expect me to smile politely and say 'thank you Oh High and Mighty, please can I have some more?'”

He pushed himself up and started to walk past her. “There is no fucking talking to you.”

Nayna shook her head sadly. “Nor to you, Negan.”

She caught his wrist before he could open the door. Nayna stroked her thumb along his pulse, leaning close to take in his musk. The smell she missed so much it made her heart ache with loneliness. His hand stiffened and he glared down at her, but said nothing.

“You know,” she began, but her voice was shaky and she had to stop. “I did think it would be different, Joe. I thought you had real feelings for me. Why else would you want me to come back to the Sanctuary with you when I said I loved you? That wasn't you trying to manipulate me against Rick. That was you. The fucking man I know who is somewhere under all that tough exterior.”

His breathing became more rapid and he stared down at her, a hard and questioning spark in his eyes. She turned over his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm.

“I don't give two shits about the man on the outside, but I love the man I've seen on the inside. Even just from glimpses. Even with the way you've treated me here, I still love you and want you...” she whispered and his fingers curled around her chin and jaw while his thumb brushed across her cheek. “Why do I mope and sleep all the time? Because I miss you. Because I'm lonely. Because I'm tired. I thought by coming here that my problems would be ending. That I could protect you better here.”

He shook his head. “Why do you fucking think I need protecting?”

She smiled into his hand. “Because it's what I do for those I love, whether they think they need it or not.”

Negan shook his head. “I don't fucking understand you.”

She looked up, stung. “You said to me you were the only man who did understand me.”

“I understand your fucking mind, doll, I just don't fucking understand your actions. If I was treating you so badly, why the fuck did you not call me out on it? Like you would have in Alexandria? That's the woman I knew. ”

He dragged his calloused thumb across her soft lips and she automatically turned her head side to side, rubbing her lips across his thumb.

“I don't know,” she shrugged. But she knew, the more he kicked her, the more she wanted to pull back, but telling Negan would be like telling the wall...“The rules. You basically told me I was supposed to act like the rest of your wives. So I became bland. And invisible apparently.”

“You're not fucking invisible,” he growled.

Nayna looked up at him. “You make me feel that way.”

Negan pulled his hand away from her face, frowning at the door. “I have to go make sure Dwight actually fucking left for the Outposts today. Doll....”

But he trailed off, chewing on his inner lip. His eyes flipped back to her, unreadable, unreachable. “I'll be back.”

She said nothing, only watching his backside move through the door. He closed it behind him, leaving her alone.

“Case in point,” she muttered to herself and stood. She shuffled back to the bed and laid down to sleep once more.

 

The moon shone brightly through her window when she finally woke up. Nayna rolled onto her side and rubbed the groggy from her eyes and the drool from her cheek. Then she passed her hand over the length of her face before rolling herself out of bed with much less panic than this morning.

More than anything she wanted to do was go back to sleep after she pissed. But the urge for a cigarette burned bright, until it was all she could think of, even as she pulled her panties back on. Three. She had exactly three. In the back of her mind she thought about what Negan would say, but decided not to care. He couldn't control her every move.

She stumbled across the crumpled clothes on the floor and kicked several out of the way before finding the most modest outfit she could. It still felt slutty to her. Slutty and wrong. But she still pulled on the skin tight pants and equally skin tight, and low cut, shirt in the dark. 

Reaching over she flicked on the light and looked to the mirror, wincing at her own gaunt reflection. Her face remained hollow, despite the weight she'd put back on and then some, and there were black smudges underneath her eyes. Her hair was a fucking rat's nest, and she was so pale. She was a shadow of the laughing, giggling girl from the Old World.

Once Rick had sold her to Negan, all the laughter had dissipated from her world, returning when Negan took her to wife and leaving when he neglected her. She looked into the mirror again and sighed. Would that old girl recognize the sad apparition before her?

She pulled her tangled hair back into a low ponytail, and decided to forgo the makeup and slutty earrings. Negan was either asleep by now or he was fucking one of the wives. And she reminded herself that she vowed not to care anymore. Why bother getting pretty for someone who just didn't give a fuck about her?

She pulled her dresser open and pawed through it until she found the small rolled bundle she was looking for. Placing it carefully on the dresser, she turned to shrug into a jacket, even though it was hot outside. As she slid the bundle into the pocket, she slipped out of her room, down the hall and into the empty living quarters. 

Nayna paused when she saw the light coming through the cracks of Negan's door. She resisted the strong urge that was pulling her towards him and instead put one foot in front of the other away from him. She had to stop this shit. He didn't fucking love her. And he never fucking would. Her feelings were irrelevant.

She squeezed her eyes shut, blinking back tears at how stupid she was thinking he wanted her for her. Just stop, she told herself, trying to build her resolve. She'd built her bed and now she'd have to lie in it. Nayna propelled herself forward and down the corridor, alone.

It didn't take her long to reach the balcony and she sat with her back pressed against the window as she unrolled the cigarettes and a lighter from the bundle. Thank god for Gus. Otherwise she'd never get to fucking smoke. Sometimes she felt like Negan watched her like a hawk, while simultaneously ignoring the shit out of her. It was fucking frustrating.

She'd just taken her first drag when the doors opened and Dwight stepped through. Well fuck. Turning her gaze back to the stars, she pretended not to notice him frowning down at her.

“You shouldn't be out here.”

She held out the cigarette to him. “Smoke?”

Dwight shook his head, sighing. “No. Negan would have a fucking fit if he caught you out here.”

“Since when have I ever been bothered by anything Negan wants me to do?”

Dwight snorted. “Well you fucking should be.”

Nayna shrugged and took another drag, exhaling the smoke slowly. “So should you. Anyway, Joe and I have our diff—fuck.”

Shit, shit, shit. It had just popped out. She rubbed a hand over her temple, as if to rub the headache right out of her brain. Dwight was regarding her awkwardly and she took a deep breath. “Please don't tell him I called him that. He'd be so pissed if he found out.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Dwight said and came to sit next to her. He held out his hand and she handed him the cigarette. “Not bad. Gus?”

“Yeah,” she said, pulling her knees to her chest, draping an arm over them.

“Fucker knows how to roll some good fucking shit,” Dwight said appreciatively, taking another pull.

“Oh god, if I end up with the munchies,” she joked.

Dwight snorted. “Doubt it. Dunno where to find any of that shit nowadays.”

She smiled weakly. “I do, but it's fucking far. All the way in Quantico.”

“How the fuck?”

“I used to be a Federal Agent. Got the hook ups from the DEA, you know.”

Dwight grinned at her. “Hah, really?”

She shrugged flippantly. “Rumor was a Navy Lieutenant was growing his own stuff....Ah, none of that shit matters now does it?”

“Not even a fucking little,” Dwight said handing her the cigarette back.

She flicked the ashes over the side. “Oh the problems we used to have. They make me laugh now. I remember how upset I was when I was forced to shoot someone in the line of duty for the first time. Now? I just feel recoil.”

Dwight nodded. “I know what you mean.”

They sat in silence, each dwelling on their own regrets. It was a while before she spoke again, and the cigarette had burned down almost to the end.

“You killed Denise...Daryl says you were aiming for him. That true?” she asked, turning to stare at him.

He nodded. “I've done a lot of shit I don't like.”

“Me too.”

“It's the way of the world.”

Nayna shook her head. “It doesn't have to be. It doesn't have to be like any of this. People are just assholes. That hasn't changed.”

“True. But then again so are we.”

She smiled, a little sadly. “Oh trust me, I know I'm not a good person anymore. I killed so many men and women. Innocent men and women. People who probably didn't deserve to die, but who we thought prudent to kill at the time.”

Dwight nodded, watching her from the corner of his bad eye. It was hard for her to look at him, but she tried not to pity him too much. He wasn't the type to take kindly to pity.

Nayna went on, looking up at the waning moon. “Sometimes I feel like I deserve to die. I feel like...I feel like I'm dying a little inside everyday anyway. So why not now?”

Dwight stood and looked down at her coldly. “Look...just don't....Don't fear the reaper, okay?”

She looked up at him, confused. “What's that supposed to mean?”

But Dwight merely turned away leaving her furrowing her brow at his back.


	36. Dear Diary

 

**Last night was...I can't even begin to explain it. Just fucking amazing. I don't know if it's because I'm pleased with the events that occurred or if I'm pleased that I took control again. I'd been spiraling out of control for so long. I'd lost myself, fell into the same depression I'd had when William left. Something had to give. And I got pissed. And it was fucking awesome...**

**After my confusing conversation with Dwight I headed back upstairs, mulling over his last words. Don't fear the reaper? Like the song? Or was that a threat? It didn't feel like a threat. But the only association I could come up with was Rick...**

**But I wasn't allowed to think about Rick. I wasn't allowed to have feelings anymore. I wasn't allowed to do anything. The more I stepped into the shared living quarters the more annoyed I got. And I fueled myself on it, because anger was better than the nothingness I'd been feeling as of late.**

**My anger carried me all the way to Negan's door, the light still coming under the door. I lifted my hand to knock and stopped myself, thinking, fuck this. So I did what I always do when I'm mad. I made a rash decision and I just pushed the door open. A thousand things could have happened. He could have been asleep. He could have been butt ass naked with another wife.**

**Instead, I walked in on him eating his dinner. I didn't let the relief show on my face. But I was glad he'd been alone.**

**He paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth and glared at me. “The fuck do you think you're doing?”**

**At that point I'd shut the door behind me, never dropping his stare as I stalked over to him. The table was set for two.**

**“Hot date?” I asked sarcastically.**

**“Waiting on fucking Dwight to get back from the fucking outposts. He's fucking late. What--”**

**I snorted over him. Hm, so Dwight hadn't come up to him. Someone was going to be in big fucking trouble.**

**He slammed the spoon down into the bowl and narrowed his eyes. “Doll, I said what the fuck--”**

**I put my fingers on his lips, cutting him off. “Shut the fuck up.”**

**He bristled, but I kneed up onto his lap, straddling his thighs, looking down at him, my hair falling in my eyes. His hands grasped my hips, and the air between us positively crackled.**

**“I am so fucking angry at you, Joe.”**

**“Is that fucking so?” he snarled as he dug his fingertips in, hard enough to leave bruises. Delicious bruises.**

**“Yes. And now we're going to have hot angry hate sex. And then you're going to stop being a jerk off. Or I will leave.”**

**I wasn't sure where that had come from, but as I spoke it, I knew it was true. I couldn't take living like that any longer. Can't....**

**“You can't leave. My men won't let you.”**

**I smiled at him, Dwight's words replaying in my head. “There is more than one way to leave Joe. I can leave without ever fucking walking out of this building.”**

**His eyes widened and his hands shot up to my shoulders. And there it was, the exact concern I'd been looking for, silently begging for.**

**He was quick to put his mask back on, but I'd already seen it. “Are you fucking--”**

**“--I don't want to, but if you keep this up, I will. Why? Because I'm fucking tired. Because I love you and I want you. And I will have you. Because if I go through with it, Joe, you'll never be the same again. I fucking guarantee it,” I'd whispered in his ear, nibbling on his lobe when I'd finished.**

**“That's fucking manipulative as fuck,” he said, letting his hands drop to my backside.**

**I laughed. “Oh, I know. I learned from the best....From you.”**

**His eyes were glittery, steely, cold and yet dancing and intrigued at the same time. It was exhilarating and thrilling and so very very bad. I fucking loved it. Would I go through with my threat? I don't know. I really don't. Probably.**

**“Kiss me,” I demanded.**

**“You kiss me.”**

**“Oh no, that's not how this works, Joe. You fucking kiss me. You do as I say.”**

**“Fat fucking chance, doll,” he whispered and slid an arm underneath me as he stood. I hung off his neck as he walked me to the bed and threw me down.**

**But he did kiss me first in the end. And we ended up a tangle of limbs, me in his lap, arms about his neck, looking down at him through heavy lidded eyes. He had lost the unreachable, unreadable expression and instead his glare was smoldering and sexy. I had him exactly where I fucking wanted him. It was time to show him that he couldn't control me. That I was still the wild girl from Alexandria that he couldn't quite ride.**

**“You still fucking belong to me, doll,” he growled, pulling me closer to him.**

**I laughed again. “No, love. You belong to ME.”**

**He squinted up at me, and then a slow grin spread across his face, neither accepting nor denying it. So I leaned in and claimed him again and again and again.**

 

 


	37. The Wars We Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Just a quick note here--I've changed my screen name from Nayna to TehLadyCav, so if you get a response from that screen name, it really is me.
> 
> Anyway, ugh these Rick chapters. Enjoy ;)
> 
> EDITED: hmmm seems like there is an error on AO here. Says I only have 36 and not 37 chapters. Hopefully this fixes it.

RICK

“Look, I need everyone to be on the same page as me,” Rick said with a sigh. “I can't do this without all of your support. I know stuff has been hard for the past few months, but we will get through it. Things will be better, I promise.”

Rick shifted his weight to his other leg, gazing around at the faces assembled. Morgan who wouldn't meet his eyes. Abraham, Sasha and Rosita with firm looks of resolve on their faces. Maggie and Glenn sharing concerned glances. Tara with her empty expression, the one she'd worn since Denise died. Daryl, leaning against a pillar, chewing his lip, just watching and waiting. Eugene who was staring at his lap. Father Gabriel who no longer shrank from his gaze. And Michonne, whose eyes Rick couldn't meet for all the guilt. Only Carol and Nayna were missing.

They hadn't been separated for long, but it had been one of the longest weeks of his life. He did love Michonne and regretted what he'd done, regretted hurting her, but he couldn't stand for her to go behind his back, no matter what her intentions were.

They acted like he didn't want to save Nayna. Out of all of them, he probably wanted to save her more. He was the one responsible for this, for her. He'd let her down, let her run into the arms of someone who was horrible for her, let her feel unwanted. He'd said some horrible, awful shit to her, he'd done the unfuckingthinkable to her. And now he'd have to get her back. 

Dwight had assured him that Negan wouldn't hurt Nayna, and Rick knew he had to trust Nayna and her heart and her instincts. No matter what. She was smart and savvy and she was a survivor. His biggest mistake was not trusting her in the first place. It was his fault for driving her away. If he had trusted her in the first place. But there was no going back, only going forward.

“Are we still doing this happy horseshit?” Abraham asked, popping his neck. Rick winced and rubbed the back of his own without thinking.

“What about Nayna?” Glenn asked, leaning forward, draping his arms over the pew in front of him. Beside him Maggie nodded.

Rick sighed. He wasn't ready for this, but he had to. It was a means to an end and it just might save her. He stepped forward and took a deep breath, again sweeping his gaze over everyone. “I haven't been exactly honest with everyone here, and I apologize. Firstly, I'm sorry for not telling you guys about my plan to take a stand against Negan. I was afraid that if you guys knew of the plan you wouldn't be as convincing. I realize that was wrong of me and I'm sorry. These past few months have taught me many things and one of them is that I need to trust my people more. All of you. Secondly...and this is something that I never wanted to share because I wanted to keep her safe, but Nayna going to the Sanctuary was a decision both of us made together. It's not one we were happy with and she knew the risks and she accepted them, hoping to end Negan's reign of terror.”

“So, you're saying she's been playing him like a fiddle?” Michonne asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes.”

“Hmm, very convincing,” Michonne said sarcastically.

“Look, I know you guys don't like it. I don't like it. Nayna doesn't like it. But now we have someone on the inside, someone we can trust, who we will trust. And I want you all to understand something. This is fucking hard on me—sorry Father—it's hard on me because I'm the one who has to make these choices. I have to put people in danger, but we've been in danger since the moment that psychopath crossed our roads. Something else I never told any of you was that Negan blatantly stated if he didn't have free access to Nayna, then he would line us up and beat the holy hell out of one of us. By agreeing to this Nayna and I saved you all.”

Rick neglected to mention that he hadn't told Nayna about that part of their conversation either. He didn't want to put that burden on her. And he should have.

“Now that he has her, he thinks he has extra insurance against us. But we have to show him that it's not true. We have to call his bluff. Nayna knows when to leave. But Negan knows the moment he hurts her, he no longer has insurance over us. And he's not one to kill for sport. Jesus has said as much himself.”

“How exactly is having Nayna on the inside helping us?” Glenn asked, picking at his nails.

“I'm able to talk to her through coded messages. Look, that's not important.”

Glenn sighed and glanced at Maggie who nodded. “Rick...Maggie and I have been talking and I think...We're moving to the Hilltop.”

“Why?” Rick asked, confused. “It's no safer there than it is here.”

“The baby. They have more room, and crops and a doctor. And we know how important it is to not be stuck under the influence of Negan...But if you're talking war...We feel like it's the right decision for us,” Glenn said reaching over to touch Maggie's ever growing belly.

Rick looked down at his boots and sighed. He didn't want to lose them, but he knew he couldn't stop them. Holding on too tight already fucked him over once. So he plastered a smile on his face and said, “Okay, when?”

“As soon as possible. Tomorrow.”

“I'll take you two there myself,” Rick said softly, walking over to them and running his knuckles down Maggie's cheek and clapping Glenn on the shoulder.

They both smiled and Glenn said, “Thanks.”

Rick nodded and turned back towards the front.

“Anyway,” he said to everyone else. “I think we need to do this and soon.”

“Agreed,” said Abraham. “The best time is when we can catch them off guard. I think their next--”

The church doors opened, cutting him off and making everyone jump. A sour feeling settled in the pit of Rick's stomach, and the hairs on his arm stood at attention. 

Olivia popped her head in. “Negan's here.”

That was odd. There were no whistles. But that wasn't important. Hopefully, Negan didn't figure out they were holding a meeting. 

“Thanks, Olivia, can you tell him I'll be out in a minute?” Rick asked.

“Sure.”

She'd turned to leave when Rick called out to her.

“How many men does he have with him Olivia?”

“Eight. A lot less than normal.”

“Thanks. We'll be right out.”

After she'd left Abraham turned back to Rick, grinning. “No time like the present.”

Rick looked around. “What does everyone think?”

Daryl pushed himself off the pillar. “Yeah. I'm in Rick.”

Sasha, Rosita, Eugene and Abraham all echoed their consent. Glenn and Maggie exchanged more worried glances, but they nodded. Michonne rubbed a hand over her forehead before agreeing. Tara said nothing. 

“I'm with you, Rick,” Father Gabriel stepped up. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Send Carl to me and take Judith, Enid and Maggie to one of the basements. Thank you Father.”

“Why?” Maggie asked. Rick glanced down at her belly and Maggie squared her jaw.

“Maggie, please,” Glenn whispered. 

Maggie bit her lip and then nodded. “Alright.”

“I'm counting on you three to lead the evacuation should we need it. Three blasts.”

“I can do that.”

Maggie and Father Gabriel slipped out and Rick turned to Rosita and Abraham. “I want you two on the wall. Make it look like you're on patrol. But make sure you're near the gate. Sasha, I want you in that guard tower, be ready to take out Negan at my command.”

“I'll go to the infirmary,” Tara said, staring up at the cross on the wall. “Denise showed me somethings and we're not going to get away with no injuries.”

“Hopefully not. First...I want...”

Rick stopped. How could he tell her to go dig up her own girlfriends grave? He cleared his throat. “Send me Heath and Aaron first.”

 

After everyone was secured, Rick headed out to meet up with Negan, his heart pounding. He flexed his hands into fists a few times before he reached Negan.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't Rick the Prick,” Negan grinned, swinging Lucille ominously.

“Aren't you tired of this?” Rick snapped.

“Tired of what? Fucking with you? Not even in the slightest. I fucking live for it. That and actual fucking.”

“That's nice.”

“Ooooh, touchy today are we? No one here to uh balance you out?” Negan threw a mocking defensive hand in the air.

Rick sighed. “Just take your cut and go.”

Negan snorted. “Not even going to ask me about a certain fucking someone. Who is probably laying naked in my bed as we speak? Cuz, yanno I just got done fucking her brains in before we came here.”

Rick's fingers curled into fists, his temple pounding with the blood pulsating throughout his body. He hadn't wanted to react but....God fucking damn Negan. He gritted his teeth together, glaring at Negan. “No. No I am not.”

“That's too fuckin bad considering she was fucking begging me to ask about your fucking kids. Don't know why she fucking cares so much about kids that don't fucking belong to her, but hey, she gave me a fine fucking dick ride beforehand, so I thought I'd be fucking decent enough to ask.”

“You tell her--”

“No!” Negan jabbed his chest with a sharp finger. “You either fucking tell me they're fine or they're not fucking fine. I am not the motherfucking post office as I fucking told her. Personally, I don't give two fucks how your kids are and either way I'm going to tell her that they are fine and fucking dandy.”

Rick stepped back, his eyes narrowing. “Then do that. My children are none of her concern.”

It fucking ripped him apart, burned him on the inside to say that. After everything she'd done for them. And looking back he couldn't blame her for what she'd said to him. If he could go back....But it was for the best. The more he pushed her away now, the closer she would be to coming back to them in the end. He just had to see the bigger picture here, whereas he hadn't seen it before. He had to trust her, and himself.

Negan shook his head. “You really are a fucking prick.”

Yeah, he fucking was. “So what?”

But Negan was turning to walk back to the truck. “You fucking fuckity fucks finished yet?”

“Yeah, almost,” said an amicable cotton haired old man in a worn leather vest. His blue eyes shifted to Rick before turning back to Negan. “Not much here.”

“Yeah, I fucking noticed. Rick, you fucks are gonna have to do better or there will be consequences.”

“We'll figure something out,” Rick said, trying to keep his voice nice and even. He couldn't give a damn thing away.

“Well you fucking better,” Negan said, climbing into the truck beside a young black haired guy. “Or there will be fucking hell to pay.”

“Don't---”

“--don't what?” Negan narrowed his eyes, leaning out of the truck.

Rick looked at the ground. “Don't hurt her.”

Negan snickered and shook his head. “You're a fucking dumbass. Why would I hurt the fucking best piece of ass I've had in years?”

Outwardly, Rick put on a hurt and angry look. Inwardly, he smiled with triumph. Dwight had been correct in his assumption.

Seeing the look on Rick's face, Negan laughed again and closed the door, rolling down the window.

“Catch ya fucking fucks later! Gonna go throw some wood in my wife...My wife Nayna.”

Not likely, Rick thought as Negan's men drove out the gate, you'll be dead as fuck. 

He turned to Daryl, Heath and Michonne. It was fucking time. The four of them rushed the gate and Rick grabbed Olivia's arm through the bars.

“You and Eugene make sure you're not letting anyone else in unless I say so.”

“What's going on?” Olivia asked.

“We're taking this motherfucker down. Trust me.”

“Of course....”

Rick lifted his hand, giving the signal and less than a moment later a single shot rang through the air and buried itself in the forehead of the truck driver. They watched as the truck spun out of control and crashed into a nearby brick house.

Men poured out of the truck, but fell to the ground as they were peppered with shots.

Rick, Michonne, Heath and Daryl all ran to the truck with their guns drawn on Negan.

“Get out of the fucking truck!” Rick roared.

“What the fuck is this?” Negan snarled as he stepped out, hands in the air. “Are you motherfucking stupid?”

“No, but you are. Ever heard of the dumb shit who brought a baseball bat to a gun fight?” Rick sneered putting his finger on the trigger, about to fire when there were gunshots echoing over their heads.

He gasped as the Glock went flying from his hand, glancing around wildly to see the same happening with Michonne, Daryl and Heath. They all looked just as frightened and confounded as he felt. 

“You fucking idiotic fucks,” Negan laughed. “You think I only came here with eight men? Are you fucking stupid? You must be to think I'm that fucking stupid. You know why my visits are always a couple of days off in either direction? That's because I have to organize my fucking backup squad. You fucking dumbfucks are fucking fucked.”

Rick looked around in horror as Negan lifted his arms in the air and a good twenty men stepped out from the surrounding buildings, all armed to the teeth. And suddenly it sank in, exactly why Nayna was telling him it wasn't a good idea. He just didn't listen to her because he thought her feelings were clouding her judgment. He'd severely underestimated both her and Negan.

Negan's grin spread even wider, giving him a grotesque manic appearance. “Ever heard of the dumb fuck Rick who thought he was fucking smarter than everyone else? You know...Nayna isn't as fucking smart as she likes to think she fucking is. She fucking said you wouldn't attack if she was there. Boy did she fucking overestimate you. I almost fucking feel sorry for her. It's gonna break her pretty delicate little heart when I have to fucking kill one of you. I guess I'll just have to fuck her heart back into place. After I kill you. Well, after Lucille, the thirsty fucking bitch kills one of you.”

He swung Lucille side to side, like a lantern, as he walked between the four of them, as if he knew they wouldn't shoot.

“Don't fucking move and only one of you dies. Keep it up and I will fucking kill every single fucker in there starting with your daughter. Then I will kill every fucking person in there in front of you, following with your fucking son. And then, then I'll leave you alive to deal with the fucking fall out. You fuck with me? You get motherfucking fucked, fucker. Get on your fucking knees.”

Rick glanced between everyone and gave a quick nod. He closed his eyes as he dropped to his knees, hoping against hope that Jesus and the Kingdomites were on their way. Otherwise they were truly fucked. Rick had planned for trouble, but he hadn't realized Negan would have even more men. Thank god for Jesus.

“Now, I have to decide which one of you to kill,” Negan laughed, still pacing between the four of them. “I can't make you into a fuckin martyr, so Rick's out and I don't want to be considered a racist prick....”

“Fuck you,” Daryl muttered.

“What, what was that?” Negan asked, cupping his hand to his ear. “Silence? That's what I fucking thought. I'd say sorry, but Lucille's fuckin thirsty.”

And he raised the bat, ready to bring it down.

“Stop this!” Rick roared. “You want to kill anyone, fucking kill me.”

Negan rolled his eyes. “Jesus, no wonder Nayna fucking left. You just don't fucking listen do yo--”

BANG! A single shot rang out, blowing Lucille from Negan's hand, sending wood chips flying in every direction. The bat landed with a single thunk on the pavement and Negan looked incredulously at the stupid thing for a good thirty seconds.

Then he turned back to the wall and screamed,“Who the fuck did that? Carl what that you, you little one-eyed fuck?”

Rick's heart sank in his chest as he looked over the wall, seeing the familiar hat looming over the wall. No, no.

“You fuckers better throw him over that fucking wall or I will kill ALL four of the fuckers down here. Now!”

“Go fucking fuck yourself!” Abraham jeered over the wall.

Negan stared up at the wall and then turned back to Rick, eyes narrowed. “You know I never had a fucking kid, but if I did, I'd want him to be like Carl. Man-fucking-sized balls....”

He looked back at the wall again. “They're really not fucking doing it...Jesus christ. New fucking plan.”

Negan's mouth opened again to speak when a shot fired from behind him. One of his men tell back into the trenches.

“What the flying fuck?”

Behind him Rick heard a scream. “Abraham!”

He whirled around to see Abraham hanging, lifelessly over the wall. Carl and Rosita were both scrambling to pull him back over, when gunfire erupted all around them.

The Kingdomites...

Abraham....


	38. The Trust We Misplace

NAYNA

She lounged on the great big bed, sighing because Negan wasn't there to glory in the luxury of it with her. She smiled to herself, thinking about the lovemaking from last night and this morning. When she closed her eyes she could feel his lips on hers, his hands roaming her body, and him between her thighs. A pity he'd had to return to Alexandria so soon.

She rolled out of his bed and shimmied into last nights outfit—a slinky little skirt that she would never have worn before with a shirt that didn't quite meet the top of the skirt, exposing a vulnerable patch of belly. Nayna left the thigh-highs dangling from the lamp as she giggled to herself, almost blushing.

God, she was acting so stupid and giggly and school girly. It was sickening. But then, it was Negan, and things were so good between them. She was finally happy. She'd stopped dreaming about Rick and started dreaming about nothing. Glorious nothing.

Nayna was busy fixing her hot mess hair, when she heard Negan's voice beyond the door. Her heart fluttered in anticipation and she turned back to the mirror over the fireplace, straightening her clothes, smoothing her hair, and cursing herself for not bringing at least a little eyeliner with her.

“Goddamned bunch of motherfucking assholes,” Negan rumbled through the door.

Nayna frowned watching and waiting for him. Oh shit, that wasn't a good sign. She sucked her lip in between her teeth, chewing as he thrust himself inside his room.

His eyes met hers and she had to stifle a gasp. There was blood on his shirt, his eye looked like a slab of shredded meat. She wanted to run to him, but something wild in his eyes stopped her and she stood, staring stupidly at him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, when she finally found her voice.

“Do I fucking look okay to you?” he sneered, mimicking the pitch of her voice.

She blinked at him. “No, you look like you got in a fight with Lucille...”

He slammed the door shut and Nayna automatically recoiled, shrinking back as the walls shook with his anger. She wrapped a hand around one of the bedposts to steady herself and watched the bloodied and bruised man, the big bull of a man, rush towards her.

He grabbed her arm and whirled her across the room, trapping her against the wall. Her heart fluttered in nervous anticipation, hoping it was just their game. Hoping that he would slide his thigh between hers and suck on her neck, all while keeping her helplessly pinned to the wall.

His hands wrapped around her throat, not squeezing, but not exactly gentle either. And for the first time, she genuinely felt afraid of the man in front of her.

“What are you fucking doing?” she panted, grasping his forearms.

“Tell me what the fuck just happened,” he said, jerking her back. She winced as her head bounced off the wall, the sickening thud echoing across the quiet room.

“Take your fucking hands off me,” she hissed, digging the tips of her fingers into his jacket.

“That fucking extra insurance,” he snarled, dragging his tongue over his lower lip. “It didn't exactly fucking pay out, doll.”

Her eyes snapped back to his face, taking in the bloodied nose, the bruised and swollen eye. Her heart ached and she reached out to touch his cheek when he shook her slightly again, bringing her back to the tumultuous present. 

“Negan, let go. Right. The. Fuck. Now.”

“Your little fucking friends thought it would be an awesome idea to fucking attack me.”

“Let go.”

“I wonder where they got the idea from,” he hissed, his finger tightening just a little around her throat, making her swallow against the pressure.

A bolt of anger crackled through the air between them. Even now he still didn't fucking trust her. What the fuck had she done to make people stop trusting her? First Rick and now Negan. The thought simultaneously made her want to cry and punch something. Negan in particular.

“Negan, if you don't--”

“--shut the fuck up!”

Nayna reeled back, away from his minty breath as one of his hands slipped from her neck and slammed into the wall right next to her ear. Her head clanged with the vibrations of the wall, setting her teeth on edge. It was the jolt she needed to spark her into action. 

She lifted her right arm in the air and in one fluid motion she twisted herself to the side while bringing her elbow down, hard, onto his. Negan's hand slipped off her neck and she splayed her other hand on his face, preventing him from coming after her as she danced out of his grip. She staggered across the room, gripping the bedpost, watching him and panting.

“Don't you ever lay your hands on me like that again,” Nayna snarled.

Negan's eyes blazed as he stepped towards her. But she refused to back up, standing as tall as her five feet, three inches would allow. He towered over her and his fist entangled in her hair, forcing her head into an awkward tilt. She grabbed his forearm with the opposite hand.

“Let me go, Negan.”

“Fuck you. How do I know that I can trust you?”

She snorted. “Because I've slept beside you on numerous occasions and haven't used Lucille or your knife to murder you. Because I came here of my own free will. Because I cannot fucking control Rick. I tried, I fucking failed. Let go.”

He tightened his grip on her hair, bringing tears to her eyes. “You fucking knew they would attack.”

“No, I really didn't. I fucking thought....”

“You're a fucking idiot then if you trusted Rick. If you think one moment that he ever cared about you and your fucking safety. If he gave a shit he wouldn't have fucking had several of my men shot. If you had maybe fucking thought this through, then neither of us would be in this fucking mess. And now, what the fuck am I supposed to do with you? You whose loyalties are still a fucking mystery to me.”

His words stung more than a little, tearing a piece of her heart away. He was partially right, though. If Rick had cared about her or her safety, he wouldn't have attacked. He wouldn't have attacked unless he felt like it was a last resort. She shivered and pinched her lips between her teeth. She had to get away from Negan, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Not only could she not count on Rick, but now Negan's mistrust of her fucking scared her shitless. Those playfully dancing eyes were now full of a cold and glittering malice. She felt all the ground they had regained over the past week crumble beneath her feet until she was standing on an island alone with him. We he throw her out to sea and let her drown? A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye and she squeezed them shut. Why did it hurt so damn much?

“Well?” he snarled, bringing her back to the present.

She looked back into his eyes, searching, always searching for it. “I love you.”

His grip loosened, though he was still panting. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with you now?”

“Can you please let go?”

He dropped his hand from her hair to her shoulder and Nayna lowered her head, trying to count to ten to calm herself. She let her fingers go slack and slide off his elbow, falling to hang dully at her side. 

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and tried not to sniffle. “As to what you're supposed to do with me...Don't you want me? Why should anything change?”

“Because I can't fucking trust you right now, doll.”

Nayna's head whipped up and she squinted over at him. “Yes, you fucking can. I came here, I told of a possibility of an attack so you would be prepared. I'm sorry this happened, I really am, but I'm still Nayna, I'm still your fucking wife. I still stand with you because I love you. I have no other argument than that, Joe...I'm still your Meghan.”

He stared at her and shook his head. 

She cut him off before he could speak. “You're getting paranoid, Joe. Stop feeling insecure--”

His hand came up and clamped on her arm, cutting off the circulation. Looking into his eyes, she realized she had said the wrong thing. Never before had she seen him so angry, even when he first walked into his room. Her stomach lurched and her throat tightened as her chest heaved up and down.

“Joe--”

“--shut the fuck up. Why....”

She had to get away. Had to let him cool off. Once his anger was gone, she could talk to him. She slipped into cop mode, and grabbed his wrist with her other hand, turning it inward and rolling her arm out of his grip. He made another grab for her and she side stepped away, wincing as her shoulder slammed into the bedpost. When he came at her a third time she stepped forward and rammed her shoulder into his chest, her elbow into his stomach.

As he gasped for air at the unexpected hit, she whirled around to flee. Tears fell freely from her cheeks and she used the back of her wrist to smear them away. 

“Fuck no,” Negan panted from behind her just as she reached the door.

He snagged her wrist and whipped her around, slinging her back into the room. 

It was as if it all happened in slow motion. The arc towards the fireplace. Negan wildly pawing at her back, trying and failing to grab her. The sickening crack of bone and flesh hitting the mantle, and then the slow fall to the floor.

For the moment that she lay on the floor, time seemed to halt completely. All she knew were the sounds of her heart pounding in her ears and the throbbing of her face. Her fingers curled into the carpet, as she panted, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Never in her life had a man put his hands on her like that. And for the first time, she realized how utterly alone she was. This man could kill her and no one would care. Her blood ran cold at the thought and another tear trickled down her face, down her swelling cheek, puddling onto the floor.

The pulsating rhythm in her cheek grew with each passing moment, bringing reality crashing back down on her. The room was so quiet she could hear the sharp intakes of breath from Negan, who was not far away.

When she didn't stir, Negan's heavy tread thumped across the room and his hoarse voice called out, “Meghan?”

“Fuck. Oh god,” he whispered, bending over to scoop her up. He leaned her back against the bedpost and she pressed a shaky hand to her now swollen cheek. Negan crouched in front of her and tucked a hair behind her ear. She'd been avoiding his gaze, but at the sound of her name she dragged her eyes towards him, looking into his horror filled face.

When he reached out to cover her hand with his she flinched away from him, turning her head to the side, but the hurt that crossed his face wasn't lost on her. An automatic response, really, but Nayna couldn't help it. Her heart pounded frightfully at his nearness and it took everything she had to root herself to the spot.

“Doll...I didn't fucking mean to--”

“--don't touch me.”

“Meghan?”

God, all she wanted was Rick. Rick who had never hit her. Rick who never yelled at her without good reason. Rick who had trusted her until Negan came along.

As she looked into her husbands almost glistening eyes, her stomach lurched and she swallowed forcefully. She saw the regret and the hurt, openly, for the first time and she knew it was an accident. And she wanted to comfort him. Even as she was in pain, still more painful was seeing him hurting and not being able to do a thing about it.

She reached out to touch him, but faltered when his glare turned steely and she let her hand drop with a hard smack against her thigh.

Another tear dribbled down her face and she sat back looking at her hands in her lap. Nayna closed her eyes, wincing at the fiery pain in her cheek. She just had to think. Just had to clear her brain. But she couldn't do it with Negan so close. 

Nayna wrapped her hand around the bedpost and pulled herself up. The room seemed to spin a little, so she leaned onto the post for support. Negan stood with her, not touching her, but not willing to back off either. Nayna didn't know what to do. Whether to comfort him or yell at him or just curl up and cry.

After a moments contemplation she looked into his eyes, locking her jaw. “Why?”

He shook his head. “I didn't mean to--”

“--didn't mean to what, Negan? Manhandle me? Hurt me? Be a raging fucking dick to the only fucking person in this world who was on your side?”

“Doll...”

“Never in my life....” her voice shook with anger and pain. “Not even when he was at his fucking worst, my abusive husband never laid a fucking hand on me. Never. I didn't realize I'd married someone worse than him.”

“I would fucking never--”

“--shut up. Just stop.” She held a hand out to his face. “You broke your promise to me. The one where you said you'd never lay a hand on me. That you didn't believe in violence against women.”

His stare dropped to the floor next to her. “I don't.”

Nayna's hands curled into fists. “You threw me into the fucking fireplace.”

The menacing pain in her face was slowly turning into a white hot rage. One where she knew, in the back of her mind, if she didn't escape, she'd do something she'd regret.

He stepped towards her, reaching for her. “Doll...” 

“No...I'm done with you. I need to leave. Now.”

She turned around and yanked the door open to the living quarters. Surprisingly, it was empty. Maybe the girls had heard their fight. Maybe they were all at dinner or napping or who fucking knew.

“Meghan!”

Something in his voice stopped her and she turned to glare at him, trying to muster up all the energy she could into her angry stare.

“Come back here.”

A bitter, harsh laugh barked from her throat. “Fuck you.”

He pointed inward. “No, we're going to sit the fuck down and discuss this like rational fucking adults. You can't fucking keep running away.”

“I cannot stay another moment with you right now. All I want to do is fucking punch you in the fucking face.”

He strode into the living quarters until he was chest to chest with her. “You want a free fucking punch? Here I am, doll! Punch away.”

She looked down to the couch on her right. “I'm not a violent person.”

Negan's laughter echoed throughout the empty rooms. “You're not a violent person? Is that how you sleep at night, doll? Knowing that you're not the kind of person to kill fucking innocent ass men in their fucking sleep?”

She couldn't meet his eyes as more tears sprinkled down her face, over her fiery cheek and on to the tops of her breasts. “I did what I did so we could survive.”

“Really?” His voice was as soft as a caress and his hands on her arms were as harsh as a scream. “So you're just trying to survive? Is that why you're here? Is this part of the game you and Rick are playing with me? You don't really fucking love me, do you doll? You're just playing me. You and Rick have been playing me all along, haven't you?”

“At first, yes,” she met his blazing eyes. “And then it stopped being a game after Spencer tried to kill me. I don't know why you sat with me in my fever. I don't know why you visited me everyday. But it stopped because I realized you had stopped playing your game with me.”

His hands squeezed tighter, bruising her arms. “Bullfuckingshit.”

“What did I ever do to you to make you not trust me?”

“What?”

“Why don't you trust me?”

“You and Rick--”

“--there was never a me and Rick. Ever. I've been up front with you the entire fucking time you've been using me to play your little game with Rick. You stopped playing with me, but the game between you and Rick has never end. Rick never saw me until he couldn't have me, and then, like a toddler, that's when he wanted me. I've always, always been faithful to you. I didn't have to come here. I could have left the day Rick and I had that argument. I could have walked down to Quantico. I could have gone to the Hilltop. I could have gone anywhere and I came straight here, straight to your arms. Because you were the one who made me feel safe again, Joe.”

She couldn't read his face, but she didn't need to. “Please let me go.”

He tightened his grasp for a moment and then let his hands slide down her arms, falling slack by his sides. Nayna put a shaky hand on his heaving chest, closing her eyes, losing herself in the familiar and comforting thunk of his heart.

Her lip trembled as she whispered, “I still love you,” before whirling around, ready to run out of the living quarters.

As she reached the door, Negan's heavy footsteps followed her. He pushed the door shut again and Nayna spun around, annoyed. But he only bent down and covered her mouth with his in a soft, gentle kiss that made her shiver. 

He broke the kiss before she registered it and ran the pads of his fingers own her swelling cheek. “Go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm really, really nervous about this chapter. I'm well aware of Negan's anti-hitting his wives rule, so this chapter is a little out there, I realize, but I hope it's realistic within the world and circumstances I've set. Also insert, but it was an accident excuse here as well. Anyway, hopefully toooo many people don't abandon ship.  
> I've also opened up comments to anon viewers as well.


	39. Dear Diary

 

**The balcony has become my safe haven. Whenever I come out, everyone takes shelter inside. Everyone but Gus or Dwight. None of the other wives come out here. When I am surrounded by the girls, or other Saviors I'm alone and empty. But when I'm out here, that emptiness turns into sweet solitude. I don't know if I'm making sense...**

**I've just stopped shaking. My mind keeps trying to process what happened in Negan's room and what happened after and it's frozen. Can't compute. But my body knows what's happened. The entire right side of my face is swollen, and it's slowly going from red to purple. I'll be surprised if my eye doesn't swell shut.**

**After he let me go, I flew out here to the balcony, leaning far over the side. My completely irrational self was seriously considering going head first into the ground below, in hopes I'd land close enough that the chained walkers would get me. But when I closed my eyes all I could see was the regret in Negan's own face.**

**So then I smoked. One after another after another. Three in a row. And I sat there feeling sick as a dog, my stomach rolling again and again. I don't know if it was from all the emotional turmoil or if it was from all the cigarettes I smoked in such quick succession.**

**So absorbed in my thoughts and my nausea I didn't notice Negan until he spoke.**

**“Doll?”**

**Slowly, ever so slowly I turned my face to him, surveying him out of my good eye.**

**“I didn't fucking realize you were still here.”**

**“I didn't realize you wanted me to leave.”**

**“I never said...Can you fucking stop that?”**

**I sighed. “Stop what, Joe? What the fuckity fuck fucks am I doing wrong now? Existing?”**

**“You fucking look awful.”**

**I opened my mouth to say something, but another wave of nausea rolled over me and I had to swallow several times to prevent myself from puking. Though there would have been a certain satisfaction in puking all over his boots. Tempting...**

**After the wave passed I looked up at him and shook my head. “You know those corkboards that had holes in them, hung on the kitchen wall so you could hang pots and pans off of them?”**

**Negan's brows knitted together, but I continued. “When you threw me into the fireplace, all I could think of was how I'd never been treated like that in my life. And then I came out here and remembered that I have. My father once did the same thing to me. He threw me into that wall when I was thirteen. All because I wouldn't give him a goddamn note. I can still feel the hooks in my back, the pots and pans clanging to the floor and I still remember how scared I was that the most important man in my life was hurting me. I hit my head pretty hard that day too. Got a concussion. I told my mother and you know what she said? I should have just given him the note.”**

**Negan's face was once again a mask, but I could see the hurt shining through. We were both silent for a long time after that. I closed my eyes and leaned against the heated glass windows, shivering as the nip in the air chilled me. Summer was officially over.**

**“I fucking...I don't know what you fucking want from me.”**

**“I want you to trust me. I want you to love me.”**

**“I do.”**

**At that point my eyes snapped open of their own accord and I glared up at him. “Which one?”**

**“Both, doll.”**

**I looked down at my hands, trying to quiet my hammering heart. “I forgave him. He swore he'd never do it again. And then he did. But the next time was the last time. Because I bit the ever loving shit out of him and I kicked and screamed and fought. I had bruises everywhere, but he never laid another fucking hand on me again. And neither will you.”**

**“Sometimes I fucking forget what it's like, doll. All the fucking people...It's not a fucking excuse. Because that shit is always uncalled for. You know I love some good violence, but never sexual violence and never against anyone who is fucking helpless...”**

**“Helpless?”**

**He rolled his eyes in typical Negan fashion. “Littler. Smaller. More vagina, less nutsack.”**

**I tried not to smile, but I failed, and he knew he had me. He offered me his hand and I let him help me up, clamping a hand against my belly. I'd be lying if I didn't think about puking on his shoes again...**

**"I shouldn't be forgiving you. I should walk out of here now. But I see you. Not the facade, but you. And that's what I'm here for. People fuck up all the time. I've fucked up. I'm not the woman I should be. But I'm here. And I'm giving you one more chance to prove to me that you love me. Because if you fuck up after this. I'm done."**

**We were silent for a few minutes, standing side by side, staring out into the wasteland surrounding the Sanctuary.**

**I turned to him and cupped his chin in my hand and smiled. "If you ever lay your fucking hands on me again, the result will not be pretty, Negan. I will string you up by your balls, like a giant fucking Negan pinãta, for the dead to fight over."**

 


	40. The Things We Lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood, sweat and tears went into this chapter. And I'm so so sorry. Sigh. I had to.

DWIGHT

“Dwight,” Negan looked up from the blueprint he was studying, brow furrowed. “I need you to go to the Outpost on Decatur. Make sure those fuckers are fully locked and loaded. Don't want any nasty fucking surprises. Have them send a detachment of five men to the other fucking outpost off Redding. That one isn't as well fucking fortified and we need all the fuckers we can get.”

Dwight rubbed his hand over the back of his head.“Yeah, sure thing.”

Negan rolled his eyes without looking up from the blueprint. He tapped his chin impatiently. “No fucking need for the sarcasm Dwight. You might want to fucking try harder to hide your contempt,” 

He opened his mouth to say more when there was a tapping at the door. 

“Just fucking come in,” Negan snapped.

Dwight glanced over his shoulder to see Sherry entering the meeting room with a tray of food. Negan motioned her over and she quietly pushed the door shut behind her as she balanced the tray on one hip. Sherry caught his eye for a split second, but Dwight turned away. Too slow for Negan who grinned up at her as she put the bowl of soup in front of Negan, along with other various things. 

Dwight chewed on the side of his tongue as Negan blatantly stared at Sherry's breasts swaying back and forth as she set up Negan's meal. That fucker and his wife. Somehow, someway, Dwight managed to control himself, to keep the appearance that it didn't bother him when Negan fondled his wife.

“When did you need me to go?” Dwight asked through gritted teeth, shouldering his crossbow.

Negan tugged Sherry's wrist and pulled her down into his lap, draping an arm casually over her shoulder. With his other hand he spooned soup into his mouth. Meanwhile, Sherry found an interesting spot on the ground to fixate her gaze. Dwight's stomach turned sour and clenched as hard as his fist was around the strap of the bow.

“Few hours. Now for all I fucking care. Though are you fuckin up for a match?”

“Not today. Not if I'm going to both fucking outposts...boss.”

“Suit yourself. Not like any of you fucking fucks are a match for me,” he grinned and winked at Dwight who nodded in faux agreement. “Besides, I'll just ping-pong my dick all over these titties. Much more fucking interesting. Now fuck off, Dwight.”

“Sure thing,” Dwight muttered and walked out of the room, pulling the door shut softly behind him.

He leaned against one of the walls and pressed a fist to his forehead, trying to calm his pissed off heart, and trying to push the image of Sherry being fucked by that monster out of his head. But the images of her writhing and whimpering under that fuckers sweaty, hairy body wouldn't leave him. He couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take Negan running his hands over her body in an obscene manner, couldn't stand the fucking commentary, and couldn't stand the idea of not being with his own damn wife anymore.

If only Rick would fucking come through, that fucker would be dead and gone. And he could have Sherry back and they could piece together their lives as best they could.

So deep in his thoughts, he didn't notice anyone else in the hall until a soft voice asked him, “Are you okay?”

He opened his good eye while his other came back into focus to find Nayna standing there, looking up at him with sadness and pity in her eyes. Just what he needed. Negan's official slut feeling sorry for him. But that wasn't fair to her. 

“Fine,” he snapped. “I'm heading out.”

She nodded and tilted her head up at him, considering him. “Can you do me a favor?”

He pushed himself off the wall and again shouldered his crossbow. “No.”

She shrugged and stepped in his way. “Think you could sneak me a pack for later?”

“No. Negan would have both of our asses and you fucking know it.”

She smiled, a little wryly. “I thought we already had this conversation...Since when have I ever been bothered by anything Negan wants me to do?”

Nayna was a fucking little hypocrite. His gaze ran down her body, from her thigh highs, to the insanely high heels, to the fucking eye liner and the fucking hooker hoops. She'd gained some weight and some of the color had returned to her face. Too much color. He squinted at her in the darkness and shook his head at the bruise on her cheek.

“You act a lot tougher than you are,” he said snidely.

She touched her fingertips to her face. “So do you, Dwight. So does everyone here. Everyone.”

Dwight tossed his head at her. “Just don't fear the fucking reaper.”

“The fuck does that mean? Dwight?”

Her voice carried after him through the corridor but he rounded the corner and jogged down the stairs to the back door where his bike was. Let Nayna deal with Negan. 

The nip in the air sent chills through his body, so he shrugged into his jacket. He couldn't believe it was already October. Three and a half years. Un-fucking-real. 

He shook his head and after checking his weapons, he mounted the bike, pushing up the kickstand with his heel.

As he revved the motorcycle he couldn't help but think of Nayna's words. She was fucking right. But especially about Negan. He knew she'd been talking about Negan. He wondered whose side she was really on. What the fuck she was doing there. 

He'd seen the sappy looks she'd given Negan. Could see the way Negan stared at her, possessively. He didn't stare at any of his other wives like that. Just her. It was fucking weird. Nayna was a walking fallacy. He didn't know what to make of her. Or of fucking Negan for that matter.

It only took him a half hour to reach the outpost on Decatur, where he was met by Gus, shaking his head. “Derry's men are at it again.”

Dwight brushed his hair back from his good eye. “Of course they are. How many fucking men?”

Gus shrugged. “Seven, plus Derry.”

“Wonderful, can't wait to hear what Negan has to say about this shit.”

Gus nodded. “Or you could just go get 'em.”

“Or I could do that,” Dwight sighed, throwing his hands in the air. “Where the fuck they go?”

Gus gave Dwight a knowing look that chilled him. “Hilltop.”

Dwight scrapped a hand down his face. “Perfect! Absolutely perfect! Dumbasses. No fucking sleep for me.”

“Careful out there.”

Gus was talking about more than just the Roamers. Derry fucking hated his guts. But he could fucking handle whatever the dick monkey threw at him. He revved the engine and took off in a cloud of dust.

 

But it was too late. He'd tried to haul ass to catch up to Derry's group. They'd been too fast for him. It had taken him over two hours to even get close. And he only knew he was close by the sounds of the gunfire which echoed throughout the forest where he and Sherry had first encountered Daryl. More guilt. But he didn't have time for guilt. 

Derry's group liked to hunt. Men, women, children, animals. It didn't matter. Negan must have known in some respect what his group liked to do. Otherwise, why would he have stationed them at the furthest outpost, aside from deterring attack? Negan kept them away from the normal people, surprisingly enough.

So now Dwight was tracking them during twilight, bleary eyed and somewhat livid. The sky was a perfect mixture of orange and pink and purple. A beautiful sunset on any other day. He only hoped the light wouldn't fade before he could take out Derry's group. And Derry, the fat fuck himsel. Though it was down to pure luck if he could sneak up on them. They'd be that much easier to eliminate. It would bring trust between him and Rick that much closer.

One of the things Rick had asked of him was to help Nayna get away. But Dwight wasn't so sure she wanted to leave. He'd tried to gauge Nayna, but she was back in Negan's good graces—if fucking Negan had good graces—and Dwight didn't know if he could trust her. Rick swore he could, but better safe than sorry. He was just glad she hadn't gotten the message he'd passed along. Twice. Fuck sometimes he was stupid.

Don't fear the reaper? What the fuck was that even supposed to mean? That he was going to mercy kill her? Jesus fucking Christ. Even Nayna looked confused. And the brusing on her face...Whatever, she wasn't his most pressing problem.

These fucking fucks would ruin everything if Dwight didn't stop them. 

He pulled his jacket tighter and shouldered his stolen crossbow higher, picking his way over fallen branches, rocks and who the fuck knew what else. The gunfire was getting louder and louder, and Dwight crouched low to take in the scene, his breaths coming out in puffy white clouds. He squinted trying to make out the shapes of the men ahead of him.

He spotted Rick and his people taking cover behind their RV, reloading and taking stock of their weapons while Derry's men stupidly stood out in the open, raining fire on the Alexandrians. Fucking idiots. But he just had to get behind them and he could take them out.

“Beautiful sight, isn't it?”

Dwight jumped about a foot in the air and he turned to find Derry grinning over him. Or rather grinning at him over his potbelly. Dwight stood and took a step back, wrinkling his nose at the stench wafting from Derry. Maybe it was the grease stains on his shirt. Or maybe it was the grease in his hair. Whatever it was, Dwight just wanted to get the fuck away from him.

He put a hand on his belt, resting on his gun. “You don't fucking sneak up on a man like that, fuck monster. Especially not in the fucking middle of a fire fight. Best way to die.”

Derry grinned and lifted his fat, wobbly arms in the air. “Pardon me, your sweet holiness. Who pissed in your cheerios?”

He snorted. “You fucking did. You realize Negan is going to have a fucking fit when he finds out how much goddamn ammunition you're wasting on this stupid fucking shit? You realize he wants you fucks at the other outpost right now? He ain't gonna be happy that's for fucking sure.”

Derry rolled his eyes. “Nah, I think he'd be pleased if we took Rick the Prick out.”

Dwight rose to his full height, though Derry still fucking towered over him. “I don't think so. Negan wants him alive. Doesn't want to make him into some kind of martyr. Which if you keep doing, you will be.”

Behind him he could hear the echoing whoops from Derry's men and Rick yelling unintelligable things into the wind. Goddamnit, fuck Derry. He didn't feel like dealing with this shit.

Derry poked him in the shoulder. “You've become a real pain in my ass lately, Dwight. Ever since Negan burned your face, you've been a royal fucking prick.”

Dwight crossed his arms over his chest, surveying Derry and his fat, fat belly. “You know...there is a term for men like you...”

Derry snorted. “Yeah, what is it ass monkey?”

Dwight smirked. “Bravo foxtrot.”

Derry stepped chest to chest with Dwight. Or more like belly to belly. “The fuck did you just call me?”

He tossed his head to the side, while sliding his arm down his own back, reaching for his knife. “Yeah, I think you're aware of what I'm referring to.”

“You know what? Fuck you I'm--”

Dwight cut him off when he buried his knife into Derry's neck. One asshole down. Only seven more to go. He kicked Derry's body to the ground, wincing as a warm spray of blood gushed onto his clothes and slid off his jacket. Wonderful. Whatever. He'd just fucking burn the shit at the outpost on Redding. He couldn't fucking worry about it now.

He stuffed his knife back in the sheath and loaded the crossbow, staying as low to the ground as possible. It wouldn't do to fucking be seen, just in case one of the fucks got away. There was a path that veered off to his right that circled right behind them. Good. If he could get behind them, he could take them all out and none would be the wiser.

Just as he set a foot on the path the shrill shrieks of a woman pierced his train of thought. He whipped his head around and saw one of Rick's men—the Asian kid—falling into Rick's arms. Fucking shit. That made three of Rick's six out of the fight. 

There was no time to circle around. He lifted the crossbow and shot a bolt through one of the men. The man beside him, Gomes?, turned and opened his mouth, but Dwight had unsheathed his Glock with his other hand and put two rounds in the fuckers head.

He ducked behind a log as they returned fire. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sheer amount of ammunition they were wasting. He peered around the log and shot twice more. Between the rest of Rick's group and Dwight, they took down the remaining five men in less than two minutes.

He stood up and glanced over at the Alexandrians, heavy in their grief. He couldn't bear looking at them, so he did a quick perimeter sweep for Roamers and then walked around to each of the Saviors and knifed them before they turned. Dwight collected their weapons, shouldering the shotguns and rifles and emptying the clips of the handguns, stuffing the bullets in his pants pockets.

What the fuck was he going to tell Negan? This was an utter cluster fuck. One of his own fucking making. Dwight put his hands on his hips, looking around for a familiar face, glad there wasn't one in the dead bodies on the ground.

Again he glanced over at Rick's group and swallowed hard. As much as he didn't want to, he had to talk to them. Slowly, ever so slowly, he scuffed over to them, his hands stuffed in his pockets, the crossbow riding his on his shoulder.

His stomach lurched as the pregnant woman threw herself over the dead body, sobbing “Glenn! Glenn!”over and over again. Dwight quickly glanced away, as if he were intruding on a private scene. 

His gaze fell on Daryl, who sat pushed against the RV with his knees drawn to his chest. One of his hands covered his mouth and silent tears trickled down his face and down the back of his hand. Once again Dwight had to look away.

Dwight's eyes met Jesus', who gave him a tight lipped smile. “Thanks.”

He nodded and silently handed over the guns to Jesus. He gazed up at the sky, now a deep, deep blue, the first of the stars beginning to peek through.

“Wish I'd gotten here sooner.”

Both men looked down at Rick who was cradling Glenn's head in his lap, brushing the hair back from his eyes. Dwight saw his hand was trembling with each pass over Glenn's face. With his other hand, Rick was trying to comfort the sobbing pregnant woman, but she either did not care or did not notice. That hand shook as well.

Dwight knew they'd lost one of their men two days past. He couldn't imagine losing two people in such a short time span. His heart ached inside his chest and he shuffled from one foot to the other, clearing his throat.

Rick's eyes were red rimmed when he looked at Dwight. “I—”

“I'm sorry,” Dwight said, pressing his lips into a thin line, looking at the pregnant woman. “I didn't realize you were on the road. Otherwise I would have done something...anything...”

Jesus shook his head. “You couldn't have known. You helped us. Thank you.”

Dwight tried his best not to look at the body. Tried not to wonder if Nayna knew him, tried not to think about it being him or Sherry or someone he loved. 

Once again he felt like he was intruding on a private scene, so he turned back to Jesus. “What can I do to help?”

The other woman who had been staring into nothingness shouldered her gun and squared her jaw. “Can you help us get Glenn into the RV?”

Dwight nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

The woman touched Rick's shoulder and helped him up. Gently they pried the pregnant woman off Glenn's body.

“No! No!”

Rick pulled her back into his arms. “Maggie, we need to move him.”

She shook her head, wildly. “I can't let him go.”

“Maggie...”

“Glenn...”

Jesus nodded at Dwight and together they lifted Glenn's body and set him on the bed of the RV. Just as he came out of the room, Rick was leading Maggie back, where she lay on the bed beside Glenn, stroking his arm, her tears dribbling on his face.

Dwight's brow furrowed and he looked over at Rick. “Look, I can't go back with you...”

Rick didn't say anything, only sat in the drivers seat and stared forward. 

Jesus put a hand on his shoulder. “Don't worry, we've got this.”

“I'll tell Negan they just up and left and we shouldn't bother wasting the manpower looking for them. Hope that will buy you guys sometime.”

Jesus nodded. “We'll figure this out. Thanks Dwight.”

Rick cleared his throat. “Did you talk to her?”

“I don't think she got it.”

Rick's face twitched. “Maybe not. But she'll realize it eventually. We're all on the same side here.”

“Yeah, we are.”


	41. The Love We Deny

NAYNA

Beside her Negan's breathing grew heavy and rhythmic, stretching into long snores. She rolled on her side, propping her head up on her elbow, the better to look down into his sleeping face. All the worry, the harshness, the mask were wiped blank, leaving him looking younger and softer and much more kissable. 

Nayna wanted to run her fingers along the stubble on his face, on his neck, but decided against it, knowing he was a fucking dick if she woke him before he was ready. Instead she just stared down at the man she'd fallen in love with, musing how easy it had been. The little nagging voice in the back of her head knew Rick had been right, that she was so desperate for love, she'd let Negan get under her skin. But now that he was there, it didn't seem so bad afterall. 

She sighed and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in her heart. She shivered and pulled the covers up higher, though it wasn't the temperature making her cold. Telling Negan she loved him had changed almost nothing. Their fight had changed almost nothing. He fucked her more, still had dinner with her, but there was no real conversation between the two. Anytime she tried to initiate, he shut her down. And she didn't think it was because they had nothing in common. No, it was because he didn't want her to get in too close. And she could understand that. Negan was her in male form. Didn't make it suck any less. 

He hadn't changed and she'd warned him she would be done if he didn't. And yet she was still here, laying in his bed, hoping for some sign instead of the mixed signals she got.

Negan was a generous lover, surpisingly enough, and when he wanted to be he could be very gentle and sweet. And sometimes, not often, when they were alone she caught him looking at her, or caught his eyes following her around. He did kiss her and he took her to bed more than the other women. But still, those were only very small sections of their relationship. But those were the reasons she stayed.

Her eyes caught a glint of light off the crystal chandelier, but when she glanced over her shoulder, there was nothing outside the window. Odd. She shut her eyes, willing sleep to come, but it evaded her as usual.

Sneaking her way into Negan's arms would be a surefire way to piss him off, even if it would help her sleep. The thought caused a rolling wave of sadness to come crashing over her heart, and she turned her face away, letting a single tear fall. Did he really love her, or had he said it because he felt guilty? All she wanted to do was ask him, but then again there was another shot to his temper and Nayna almost preferred the peaceful loneliness to the turbulant agitation they'd lived in before.

She curled up on her side, facing away from Negan, wishing she had the courage to just get up and leave his bed, leave him alone. But she couldn't, not when there was even the smallest of chances that he might curl against her in the night. So she stayed, small and sad and alone.

All night she tossed and turned, finally pulling the covers over her head when the sun peaked through the curtains. Negan stirred, grunting as he pushed himself off the bed. His heavy tread thumped across the room to the wash basin he kept near the mirror. Nayna heard him splashing his face with water and him mumbling incoherently to himself.

When he came back to the bed, she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he would kiss her goodbye or wake her or something. Instead he stood over her and sighed as he pulled on his clothes. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying out as he stomped away, probably to find his boots.

After some serious grunting and muttering, he scuffed back over to her side of the bed. There was a dip in the mattress as he sat down beside her. She felt his warmth as his hand slid up her thigh, over her belly, stopping to fondle her breasts in typical Negan fashion, and cupped the side of her face in his palm.

He stroked his thumb over her brow. “Doll...”

She made her eyes flutter open, as if she'd been asleep the whole time. “Mmm?”

He leaned down and grinned at her. “You're getting fat.”

She looked away, stung, wishing she could roll over, but Negan had a firm grasp on her face....and her heart.

“Doll, it's a joke, not a dick. Don't take it so hard.”

Nayna furrowed her brow, concentrating on keeping any sign of weakness at bay. “Okay.”

Negan bent down and pressed a soft, chaste kiss on her nose. “I like you like this. Curvy. Womanly. Fucking sexy. But not too much more sexy, doll. You should start exercising.”

She blinked innocently up at him. “But you work me out practically every night.”

Negan threw his head back, his laughter barking throughout the room. She smiled despite herself and reached up for him, still expecting him to push her away. But he surprised her when he leaned over again and caught her lips in a toe curling, mind numbing kiss. The kind of kiss that never failed to make her dizzy and happy and in love. 

“I've got a fucking meeting in an hour,” he said, checking his watch and then glancing back at her. “But I want you to fucking be available for me. I think I'm going to need to fuck you. Hard.”

She covered her mouth and giggled through her fingers. “Last night wasn't enough?”

“Fuck no. Not when the pussy is as sweet as yours, doll.”

She flushed at his vulgarity, and at the throb rising between her thighs. She sucked her lip between her teeth and regarded him with half-lidded eyes, drinking in the way his shirt clung to his biceps, the way his eyes darkened when he wanted her, the way he dragged his tongue ever so slowly along his bottom lip. She sighed again, stroking her knuckles along his arm. Negan grinned knowingly at her and nipped the tip of her nose.

“Be fucking ready.”

“I'm always ready.”

Another kiss, another squeeze of her breast and then he was gone, leaving her lying in his bed with a big, goofy grin on her face. She rolled onto her back and smiled, letting herself fall in and out of a happy dream.

 

A few hours later, Nayna headed for the cafeteria in hopes of snagging an extra snack. Her belly rumbled precariously, almost to the point of retching. Over the last week, since the fireplace incident, she'd been torn between nausea and intense hunger. Dr. Ryan said it was a concussion and she should concentrate on getting her rest. Not like Negan was actually giving her much. A small smile peaked on her lips.

She slipped down the hall with Negans hands on her mind. She could still feel them running over her body, like fire sparking her skin. She could still taste the tarty apple from his tongue, could still hear his moans as she lashed him with her own tongue, could still smell the stupid, stupid colonge he insisted on wearing. The scent she came to identify with him. Just a whiff made her turn her head looking for him.

Too busy thinking about Negan, she almost careened into Dwight, who grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her. “Whoa.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, lost in thought.”

Dwight looked amused. “I have a present for you. But you can't tell...”

“Ooooh, what?”

He reached into the pocket of his vest and produced two cigarettes for her. Her already rolling stomach lurched again and she crinkled her nose, stepping back.

“Weren't you begging me for these two days ago?”

Nayna rubbed her stomach. “An hour ago they would have been amazing. Now, I just have a headache and I'm starving.”

Dwight's brows twitched and he turned his head to the side, carefully regarding her before his eyes slid down her body—not vulgarly, but appraisingly. 

Nayna furrowed her brows. “Got a problem?”

He sighed and shook his shaggy hair. “Not particularly. I just went through a lot of shit to get these.”

Nayna snatched them from his hand. “Thanks...Wait...”

She inspected them further, noticing the horrid acrid smell and the yellowing paper. The same fucking paper Daryl snagged from Rick's house to roll them....

Nayna's head snapped up as Dwight looked at her expectantly. Don't fear the reaper...It made sense. Rick was trying to send her a message...

“You know what? A smoke sounds great,” she said through gritted teeth as she snatched his wrist and dragged him out to the balcony.

When they were alone Nayna held up the cigarettes. “Where did you get these?”

Dwight glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “You know. I know you know.”

She jerked her hand through her hair and started to pace the length of the balcony, trying to even out her ragged breathing. Dwight only watched her as he pulled out a small bottle and applied the solution to his open eye.

What did Rick want from her? She'd been away from him for so long that she was having a hard time wrapping her brain around it all. It was too broad to mean anything specific and too narrow to mean anything regarding an attack.

She smacked her fist onto her forehead. Don't fear the reaper....it was their song. Stupid, but it was. The first time she realized how much Rick meant to her. The night he moved from leader to partner to best friend. 

Closing her eyes she lost herself in that memory, the rain, the wind, the dead. Her back pressed to Rick's front, his arms around her and him whispering “We're gonna get through this. We're gonna make it.”

A slow, hot tear trickled from the corner of her eye and she swiped it away. Nayna crossed over the balcony, grabbing the rail for dear life as she leaned forward. She let out a shaky breath. Oh Rick...

She cleared her throat and asked Dwight in a raspy voice. “What did he do? What is he planning on doing?”

“Nayna, I don't know anymore than you do.”

She held up her hand. “I don't believe you for a moment. You're working with him. I don't know why. I don't care why. But now...What am I supposed to do now?”

Dwight came to her side and touched her semi-healed cheek. “You're supposed to do what's right.”

She turned her face away and grabbed the rail again, leaning over slightly. “I don't know what's right anymore.”

“You do. You just don't want to admit it because you're in love with him.”

She gripped the rail tighter to hide her trembling hands. “Do you think....”

Dwight glanced over her shoulder at the balcony door again and then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hm?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line and exhaled before mumbling, “Do you think he loves me?”

He sighed and looked away. “I...No. I don't think so.”

It hurt far worse to hear him say it outloud than for her to even think it. The emptness in her belly curdled and she had to take in several short gasps to keep from throwing up.

Her voice was a whisper, barely carried over the wind. “Leave me alone. Please.”

“Please...don't...I hope I can trust you.”

Nayna nodded, though she immediately regretted it. “Just go.”

He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed before heading back inside. She collasped, her chest smashing into the railing as wave after wave of dizziness exploded in her head. The tears came silently, but the retching did not. She vomited over the side, barely missing the pavement, hitting the tiny patch of grass below. It took several rounds of dry heaving before her stomach settled.

After the nausea subsided she sank to her knees, propping herself up with a hand. The other hand cupped her forehead. She felt hot and sick and tired. So tired. And for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt scared.

What if what Dwight said was true and Negan didn't love her? Then all she was good for was a weapon against Rick. And she hadn't survived this long, through so much shit, to die like that. She put a hand to her rumbling tummy and sucked in a deep breath. She couldn't stay. And it broke her fucking heart. She loved Negan, so much, but she wasn't willing to let him use her like that. Not against Rick. Not against anyone. She was so much more than a pawn. She had to get back to her room and prepare before Negan came to find her and fuck her. Maybe she could tell him she was sick and he'd leave her alone. 

She wished he wouldn't leave her alone. But then again, she was always alone, wasn't she?

After gulping in several big breaths of air and wiping her face, Nayna pulled herself up by the railing and made her way to the balcony door. She still shook, and her breathing was still heavy and thick so she reached into her pocket for a breath mint, more for something to focus on than anything else. Before she could grab the door handle it swung open on its own, revealing a grinning Negan on the other side.

Her stupid, traitorous heart skipped a beat, while her stomach sank. She fought the desperate urge to throw herself into his arms and beg him to tell her he loved and wanted her. Instead she looked up at him with big solemn eyes, willing him to say it on his own. Fuck, she was stupid and naive. 

He squinted down at her face. “You okay, doll?”

She sniffled and nodded, holding her sleeve to her nose. “Think I'm coming down with a cold or something. Got a bit of a headache, love.”

Fuck, it was so easy to slip back into old habits. Calling him love and joking and lying to him.

Negan snorted. “Well fucking stop. You don't have fucking permission to be sick.”

She gave him a half-hearted smile and let him lead her back inside, his hand on the small of her back, sending shivering sparks from her heart to between her thighs.

He shoved her into an alcove and pressed her against the wall with his thigh jammed between hers and his hands running all along her body. Nayna sighed into his mouth, opening her lips to let his tongue through, swishing the mint in her mouth. The fire, the pounding grew the more he lashed into her. 

Fuck why did he have to feel so good pressed against her? A whimper escaped her lips as he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging until it snapped back into place. She curled her fingers into his shirt and leaned her forehead against his pounding heart. As she bit down on the mint she closed her eyes, savoring the peppermint that settled her furious stomach.

She opened her eyes and plucked at his shirt. “You're in a good mood.”

The rumble of Negan's laughter vibrated deliciously against her face as he buried a hand in her hair, stroking the base of her skull. “Oh yes, yes I am.”

She nuzzled her face deeper, drawing in his smell. “Care to share?”

Negan's hand moved down her back and he pressed his knuckles firmly into her lower back, smoothing them up and down and up and down. “I have a little trick up my sleeve for your fucking friend Rick.”

No, no...She swallowed hard and encircled her arms around his waist.

Nayna found it difficult to breathe. “What's that, my love?”

“Fucking Gregory from Hilltop.”

She leaned back and looked up at his damnable dimples and slightly wrinkled forehead. “Hm?”

With his other hand he played with the ends of her hair. “He came to me waving a truce flag. Says most of Rick the Prick's army is made up of those from the Hilltop.”

His eyes searched her face and she fought to keep her expression devoid of any emotion. He leaned forward and nipped her ear. “He's pledged allegiance to me, and the allegiance of the Hilltop. Once I reveal that, then all of them are fucking fucked and they'll fucking realize it and traipse the fuck home.”

She nodded, once again leaning forward and rubbing her cheek against the warm fabric of his t-shirt, feeling the excited thump of his heart under her face. Nayna clutched him like a life line, only wanting him to hold on to her. Like he did after they made love. The only time he would allow that sort of affection.

He'd told her he loved her. But not outright and only the one time. Nayna was beginning to wonder if he'd told her the truth that night or was trying to make her stay so he could use her as a weapon against Alexandria. At the thought a tear trickled down her face and she let go of Negan, facing the wall, trying to gather her tears.

She wished he would reach for her, to draw her back to his chest, but that wasn't his style. Instead when she turned back to him, he stared down at her coldly, eyebrows raised as if to ask if she was finished yet. Nayna pressed her lips together and gazed down at her feet. At the ash on her boots.

He tipped his finger under her chin so her eyes met his. “Dollface...I fucking trust you, but my trust only goes so fucking far, you know that right?”

She cleared her throat and blinked away several tears that slipped from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “Yes.”

Negan wiped the tears away with a brush of his thumb and he sighed loudly. “I don't fucking know what the fuck to do with you. Why are you so fucking emotional lately?”

Nayna closed her eyes and whispered, “I love you.”

“I know, doll. You tell me everyday.”

She opened her eyes, more tears falling, to see Negan condescendingly smiling down at her, igniting a spark of anger in her anguished heart. Her hand snapped up and she snagged his wrist. She dug her short nails into his wrist, panting as her resentful gaze met his annoyed one.

“You know, when I say I love you,” she sobbed and gasped for air between words. “I am expecting you to say it back. That's why I'm fucking crying. That's why I'm upset. Not about Alexandria, but at the fact that here I am, once again in love with a man who doesn't fucking want me back. I am crying because you're an asshole and I'm a fool.”

Negan jerked his wrist free as the panging of cross trainers on the catwalks hit their ears. Nayna pressed back into the wall, staring at the floor beyond him. 

Carson poked his head around the corner. “Negan....”

Negan glared. “What?”

“They're here.”

He sighed and scraped his hand over his face. He grasped Nayna's elbow. “We're not fucking finished with this conversation yet, doll.”

She shoved at his wrist, yanking her arm up and out of his grasp. “We are. Go fight your petty battles with Alexandria.”

Nayna turned to walk away when Negan snagged her by the back of her top. “Carson, go escort my wife back to her room. Kindly fucking make sure she stays there until I come for her.”

He roughly shoved her towards Carson who put a gentle arm around her shoulders and nodded at her.

“Let me go see what the fuck these fucking fucks want—And Carson, send Dwight to bring me Gregory too. These assholes have no fucking idea the mountain of shit they just whiffed.”

“Yes, sir,” Carson said, leading her back towards her room.

She wanted to fight, but there was no use. Before they rounded the corner, Nayna glanced back over her shoulder as the balcony door opened and as Negan prepared to step outside.

She heard Rick's voice and her heart leapt and sank at the same time. Someone was going to die today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because I'm lazy I've turned off comment moderation. Go crazy kids! <3


	42. Dear Diary

 

**The shooting started shortly after Carson locked me in my room. Shooting coming from inside and outside. At first I hunkered down in my chair, but once the windows in my room started to explode, I shimmied under the bed and covered my ears with my hands. I'd forgotten how loud fire fights could be. I fucking forgot in six fucking months. Ridiculous.**

**It seemed to go on for hours, when in reality it might have lasted an hour, if that. But I stayed under the bed, panting, trying not to cry for far longer. It was all too fucking much for me. My friends shooting at my husband's people. I...The husband who probably doesn't give two shits about me. He pretty much confirmed it.**

**I keep thinking to all the kissing. If he didn't feel something why we he still kissing me and not any of his other wives? No, I couldn't fall into that trap again. But goddamnit if that fucking smile and that look don't both fucking get to me.**

**I still didn't crawl out after the lock clicked and the door opened. I only came out when I heard Negan's hoarse voice calling for me.**

**“Meghan!”**

**I stuck my hands out—my shaking hands—and Negan grabbed my wrists, yanking me out from under the bed.**

**“Did you get....”**

**His eyes were searching my face, sending warm fuzzies flying in all directions. I shook my head. “I'm....”**

**I was going to say okay. But I couldn't. I can't lie to him anymore. I can't lie to myself anymore. I'm not okay. I don't think I'll ever be okay again.**

**I took a deep shaking breath. “Nothing hit me.”**

**And in a very un-Neganlike manner he wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. Almost as if...it sounds silly, but it felt like he was trying to protect me. Or maybe I'm just projecting what I want to see...**

**“Shame, I didn't get to fuck you before all this mess.”**

**And he was back. I pulled away and sat on the bed, staring out the window—the glassless, empty window.**

**I'm so confused right now. I love him, there is no doubt about it. And I want him to love me.**

**Negan sat next to me after kicking the door shut. He slid his hand into mine and said nothing.**

**I finally worked up the courage to ask him, “Who died?”**

**He sighed. “Few of the snipers. Couple of Dwight's idiot friends. That stupid kid Josh...Gus.”**

**Gus...Gus who saved me from the river. Gus with the cottonball hair. Gus who sneaked me cigarettes and joked with me when no one else would. I looked away from him so he wouldn't see me cry. Suddenly I was ashamed to cry in front of him.**

**“Who else?”**

**He hesitated before answering me. “Some guys from the Kingdom. Fuckers from the Hilltop...”**

**“You're not telling me who else.”**

**“Your friend, Sasha.”**

**My head snapped back so hard the room spun for a moment. “Sasha? How?”**

**“She drove a fucking car through our fucking fence.”**

**Not Sasha. “And she died.”**

**This time it was Negan looking away. “It's fucking war, not a garden party. She's dead. She fucked us royally.”**

**I clenched my jaw, at that point there were too many things whirling in my brain to even focus on one emotion. “How?”**

**“Go take a fucking looksie out the window, doll.”**

**And I did. What I saw...Walkers, all around the building, piling up inside the fence.**

**I turned back to him. “Please don't keep me locked up in here. Please.”**

**He'd come up behind me and towered over me. “Sorry, doll, I just can't fucking let you out.”**

**“Why the fuck not? You don't trust me?”**

**A sigh and then he leaned down and kissed me, gently, sweetly. So unlike him. “That too.”**

**“If you loved me, you'd let me fucking out and you'd let me help.”**

**He crossed the room, pulling the door open. “No, doll. You're locked here because I do love you.”**

**And he slipped out of the room pulling my door shut with a snap, the lock clicking into place behind him.**

**He actually fucking said it. But I still don't know whether to believe him or not. Don't know if he was genuine, or just acting to get me to behave the way he wanted me to. He left and I'm more confused than ever.**

**What is wrong with me?**

 


	43. The Lives We Lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Whew, this chapter! We're getting so close to the end! I can't wait.   
> Anyway, for all those who have been dying for a Nayna/Negan love story, I've started an AU fic called When Worlds Collide that centers on the two of them. So when you get a chance, go check it out!

RICK

The attack on the Sanctuary had gone as well as it could have under the circumstances. The attack on the outposts could have gone better, but they'd eliminated one and Ezekiel and his men had eliminated half of another. He'd lost many of his men though. And his tiger, Shiva. 

Rick sat at the table, stirring his coffee, staring off into nothingness, listening to the clink, clink, clink of the spoon against the mug. They'd only lost Sasha and Eric, Aaron's boyfriend. Only. 

He couldn't distance himself enough to say they'd only lost two. Those two had been friends. People with lives and names, not just random faces belonging to someone else. They had been people he loved. He hadn't known Eric that well, but his heart hurt for Aaron. He knew what it was like to have to return home to find it empty and void.

And Sasha...After all they'd been through. She'd come out stronger. They all had. She'd lost a lover, a brother and then another lover. Friends. She was more than just a friend. She was family. Everyone from before was family. And now they were dead or scattered. 

She wasn't supposed to be the one breaking through the fence. It was supposed to be him. Negan couldn't kill him, wouldn't kill him. And then he'd be on the inside. And he would have gotten Nayna out. He would have moved hell and earth to get her out of there, even if it meant he died in the process. 

He no longer gave a fuck if Nayna hated him or loved him. All he wanted was to get her the fuck out of there. He didn't like what he was hearing from Dwight. It wasn't like her to smoke. Daryl said otherwise, that she liked to sneak them at the prison, but Rick had a hard time believing that. It wasn't like her to sleep all the time. An idle Nayna was not his Nayna.

God, he hoped she got his message. Rick rubbed a hand over his tired face. He fucking hoped for so many things. Mostly, he just wanted his family safe and intact.

But they'd never be intact again. Not without Glenn, Sasha or Abraham. 

He kept replaying Glenn's death in his mind, over and over and over again. What he could have done differently. And it was all his fault.

No...It was all Negan's fault. They would have been fine otherwise. Negan fucked everything up.

“Dad?”

Rick looked up to find Carl holding Judith on his hip, rubbing his good eye. He smiled and pulled out a chair for Carl and reached for Judith.

His heart melted when she curled her little baby fingers into his hair and smiled her four toothed smile at him. Just looking at her and at Carl strengthen his resolve. This is what they were fighting for. Even Nayna. She still cared about them like they were her own. She was still trying to protect them all, even if it meant throwing herself into danger. Just like always.

But Rick needed to be a man. He needed to step up and take care of his family. And Nayna was part of his family. Half mother to his children, the best friend he'd ever had, even after he'd sold her out. She'd forgiven him. 

He'd failed so many times. Failed to protect Lori. Failed to protect the prison. Failed to protect the people of Alexandria. Failed to protect Carl. Failed to protect Nayna.

But he couldn't afford to fail now. No, not when all of Alexandria, the Hilltop or the Kingdom depended on him. Not when Judith and Carl needed him. Not when Nayna needed him. He was building this world for them. To keep them safe.

He pushed his coffee towards Carl who yawned and then proceeded to gulp it down. He put the mug on the table making a face which in turn made Rick laugh.

“Ha ha ha!” Judith said, even though she had no idea what she was laughing at. Rick's heart nearly melted at the sound. 

He still had the urge to turn to Nayna or Michonne to share in the latest misadventures of Judith's toddlerhood. He would start to turn before he realized that neither one was there. He missed them both.

Carl plopped his hat on. “We going to the meeting?”

Rick nodded. “Yep. Was just waiting on you.”

He watched his son strap on his belt and gun holster, his heart wrenched in the process. He still couldn't get used to the idea of his fifteen year old son carrying a gun. But that's the way things were. 

Carl glanced up and nodded. “Ready when you are, Dad.”

They walked to the church together, mostly in silence. When they arrived, Rick handed Judith over to Father Gabriel and stood at the front to address everyone.

“I can't congratulate anyone. I can't give good tidings. War is not good. But remember, we are fighting for something. We're fighting to live. We're fighting for this. And this is worth fighting for. We've lost men and women. Good men and women. Nothing will ever replace them, not time, not things. The only thing we can do to honor them is to fight on. To have not let them die in vain. I know this is hard and more people will die. But the quicker we do this, the quicker we end this, the less lives lost.”

Rick paused and cleared his throat, looking into the faces of those he knew and those from Hilltop or the few from the Kingdom that he did not. “Our attack on the Sanctuary went as well as we could have hoped for. We lost Sasha in the process, but because of her sacrifice, we were able to trap Negan and his men inside. However, Ezekiel's attack on one of the outposts did not...He lost a lost of men.”

He stopped to look at Ezekiel with his head bowed, graying dreadlocks in his face. Seeing the usually energetic, springy man so deflated made Rick cringe on the inside, as if it were his fault.

“Ezekiel, nothing will replace the men you lost, but thank you for your men and thank you for their sacrifice.”

Ezekiel glanced up with his red-rimmed eyes and nodded. “It is I who should be thanking you, Rick Grimes, but I'll save it for another time.”

Rick smiled and bowed his head slightly. “Thanks. Now, I'm assuming that the surviving men ran off to alert Negan and his men. I'm assuming the Saviors are no longer trapped in the Sanctuary because of that. And you all know what that means. They will retaliate. And we will have to be ready. Right now we're vulnerable.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“We have one advantage.”

People looked at him questioningly and he smiled. “We have Eugene and his crew. They have a very limited supply of ammo. Not hardly enough. We on the other hand, have the capability to have limitless. His crew just delievered another case. I know they're working as hard and as fast as they can. Rosita, please make sure Eugene knows how much I appreciate him.”

Rosita nodded. “He hardly ever sleeps anymore.”

“I know. Thank you. So--”

He was cut off by the loud popping sounds of gunfire. Everyone glanced at each other and they all rushed to the windows.

“Okay guys, they're here--”

The windows erupted, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. The entire group was knocked off its feet as the gunfire continued. He rolled off of Rosita, coughing, waving away the debris from his face. Carl! Judith! He had to find them.

As the church filled with smoke Rick crawled over bodies to get to Carl and Father Gabriel. Both were okay, with Father Gabriel curled around Judith's little writhing body. Rick reached over and smooth his hand over her baby curls and nodded at Carl.

He grasped one of the pews and pulled himself up to a standing positon. “Everyone okay?”

People were groaning and clambering to their feet. Thankfully the explosion seemed to have missed the church entirely. It was as if Negan wanted to send a warning. Otherwise, why shoot first and then blow shit up?

“Come on, we need to get eyes over the wall.”

He pried the church doors open, his feet pounding on the pavement. To his right one of the houses on the perimeter was alight. But he couldn't worry about that. 

Behind him Michonne was yelling, asking if anyone lived there. He ignored the commotion behind him and scrambled up the grass that sloped up one of the walls.

“What're you doing?” Jesus yelled.

Rick glanced over his shoulder. “They can't have eyes everywhere!”

He almost regretted looking over the wall. There stood Negan on the hood of a moving truck, Lucille thrown casually over his shoulder. Rick scanned the expanse. If he had ot guess there were thirty-five to forty men with Negan.

Negan raised a fist in the air. “Oh Rick! Come out, come out wherever the fuck you are! I just want to fucking talk, lucky for you.”

Rick rested his forehead against the wall taking in deep breaths. They were outnumbered and outwitted. By fucking Negan.

“Hey, Rick! I've got a fucking present for you.”

He opened his eyes and peered over the wall again, watching as Negan's men pulled a small woman from the truck. Her hands were bound behind her back and there was a hood over her head. His heart contrasted. Nayna? No...No, Sasha!

He slid down the hill and ran to the gate.

“Look, Rick, wrapped her up all pretty for you. Even with a fucking bow. You know you fucking missed one. Don't you want her back?”

“Let her go and then we'll talk.”

Negan shoved Sasha forward and she stumbled a little, but managed to regain her footing.

“Sasha, this way,” Rick coaxed her as he dragged the gate open. He narrowed his eyes at Negan. “What did you do to her? Is she gagged?”

Negan rolled his eyes. “Got tired of her fucking clucking. Sue me. She's here, she's safe and fucking sound, the peace offering stands.”

Rick reached out and put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her back behind the gate. He nodded over his shoulder at Morgan who put his arm through hers and led her towards Heath and Tara.

Behind him he heard them fussing over Sasha, but Rick glared at Negan. “What do you want?”

Negan chuckled. “Rick, Rick. All I want is for--”

But he was cut off by Morgan's screams and Tara and Heath yelling. Rick turned back and his heart sank. There was Morgan, falling to the ground, a large chunk of flesh missing from his shoulder. Blood spurted everywhere, mostly on the street. Tara caught Morgan and lowered him to the ground, all the while cupping the back of his head with her right hand.

“It's gonna be okay,” she whispered.

Heath grabbed the crowbar at his hip and slammed Walker Sasha in the back of the head before she could bite someone else.

Rick shoved off the gate and stumbled forward, kneeling on the ground. “Morgan...”

Behind him Negan roared. “ATTACK!”

He glanced up at the gate. They were fucked. Beyond fucked.

Tara put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, we have to get him to the infirmary.”

Rick couldn't pay attention to what Negan and his men were doing. The only thought in his head was for Morgan. Morgan who saved him. Much like Glenn.

But he couldn't save either of them. Couldn't save Sasha or Abraham. And it was starting to look like he wouldn't be able to save....

He jerked his head around at the sound of a loud clang on the pavement. He didn't have time to yell to Heath. It exploded around them, sending all four of them flying.

Rick skidded across the pavement, losing several layers of skin on his cheek in the process. He rolled over and sat up, groaning. He had to blink a few times to get his vision to slide back into place. Beside him Tara slowly got to her feet. Morgan lay motionless a few feet away. But it was Heath that made his stomach roll. Heath's left leg was missing from the knee down, dripping blood on the road. 

He and Tara rushed over to Heath and Rick jerked his belt off. He and Tara made fast work of tying a tourniquet just above the knee.

“We've got to get him away from here,” Tara mumbled. 

Rick glanced up at her and saw a large red gash on her cheek. Shit. “You need the infirmary too.”

He gazed over at Morgan who had woken up, and had pressed a hand to his shoulder. Morgan glanced at them and nodded. “Go. He has a chance. I don't.”

“Morgan...”

But he only smiled at Rick. “Don't worry about me. I...I get to see Jenny and Duane again. I'll be with them soon. That makes me happy. Now go. I'll cover you.”

The look they shared spanned over a few seconds and a lifetime. Rick nodded in gratitude, for all Morgan had done for him and Morgan smiled again before sitting up and drawing his gun.

“Nayna was right. And now, one of these fuckers is gonna die.”

“Rick!”

He turned back to Tara just as the gunfire echoed behind him. 

When they'd safely deposited Heath in the infirmary he turned to Tara. “Can you handle this?”

Tara nodded. “I can try. If you could find Rosita. I know she has training, send her this way.”

“Of course.”

He burst out of the infirmary. Had to find Carl and Judith. That was his only thought as the gunfire and explosions sounded all around him. The Saviors were hitting the perimeter and they were hitting it hard.

As he passed people he yelled. “Get to the center of town. Now! Gather everyone you can and every gun you can find. Go!”

And there they were, Carl running towards him with Judith in his arms and Father Gabriel trailing behind with several shotguns and rifles slung over his shoulder, and his hands filled with boxes of ammo.

“Thank god,” Rick panted, running into Carl and dragging him and Judith into his arms. He held Judith close, cradling her to his chest. “Get your sister safe in the middle of town. Find Carol and give Judith to her. Then meet me at the wall. We're going to shoot these fuck--”

They were thrown forward as another grenade hit the ground behind them. Rick twisted his body, so his and Judith's sides absorbed the shock, instead of her fragile little head. She began to sob, a sound that made Rick's heart pound with relief. 

He rolled on his back and lifted his head off the ground. “Carl?”

Father Gabriel put his hands under Rick's arms and helped haul him to his feet. Rick handed Judith over and ran to Carl who was lying face down.

“Carl! Carl!”

After what seemed like an eternity Carl's head rose from the ground. “Dad?”

Rick let out a half choked sob and fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around his son. “Carl!”

Together they rose to their feet. “I'm okay, Dad.”

“The center of town, come on!”

Rick dragged Carl and Father Gabriel along with him. Michonne, Ezekiel and Jesus were distributing guns. 

“Okay now--”

He stopped when he heard more gunfire, but this time accompanied by yelling and screaming. Rick and Daryl exchanged glances and they both sprinted towards the wall. Peering over, he nearly gasped at the sight of Maggie and several of the men from Hilltop engaged in a firefight with Negan and his men.

But Negan's men were retreating. And just like that, the attack on Alexandria was over. They watched the trucks rumbling off.

One of the men asked Maggie something but she shook her head and began to waddle to the gate.

Oh Maggie....Heavily pregnant...

Rick jumped down and yanked the gate open for her. She smiled, a tired, yet triumphant smile. He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. “Thank you.”

“I didn't know what else to do, but we brought almost everyone. I thought it'd be smart to stick together.”

Rick raised a brow at her. “You? Are you the leader of the Hilltop now?”

Maggie flushed. “I suppose...yeah I suppose I am.”

Rick grinned. “Good. You're more fit for it than Gregory.”

“Carl's more fit than Gregory.”

He sighed. “We can't stay here.”

She nodded as she took in the fire and ruin of Alexandria. “No, we can't. But we have room at Hilltop.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

They slowly walked back to the group.

 

He rifled through the nightstand, grumbling as he pawed through the papers and the junk. And then he found it. Shane's hat. No, Nayna's hat. Rick stuffed it into the bag and threw it over his shoulder with a grunt.

Downstairs Carol, Michonne, Carl and Judith were waiting for him, bags of their own packed. He nodded and they all trotted out of the house.

He looked around. “Everyone ready?”

The Alexandrian's all nodded and Rick glanced over at Maggie. Heavily pregnant Maggie, standing tall and strong with red rimmed eyes. Glenn would be so proud of her. He was proud of her.

He closed his eyes trying not to think of Glenn. But he couldn't not think of Glenn. Glenn had been the last truly good and honest person among them. Without blood on his hands. The rest of them could paint with the red on their hands, including Maggie. Glenn whose goodness saved him from the tank in Atlanta, three and a half years ago.

Glenn, Morgan, Abraham, Sasha. He thought his aching heart would burst. But he would have to do what Nayna always said. Just keep on keepin' on.

“Rick?” Michonne mumbled.

He opened his eyes and nodded. “Let's head out.”

Tara and Rosita had loaded Heath into a cart. He'd be okay. They got to him just in time, Rosita had said. Good. They couldn't afford to lose anyone else.

Rick glanced back at the smoke and flames one last time and sighed. Hard to believe that they'd walked into Alexandria almost a year ago to the day. He never envisioned it laying in semi-ruin. All because of Negan. But at least they had a place to go. He put a hand on Carl's back and and arm around Maggie's shoulders.

When they were at the gate he stopped and looked back. Alexandria was home. They would be back.


	44. The Choices We Make

NAYNA

Nayna's hands trembled for no reason. She watched them, fascinated as she tried and failed to hold them steady. She had to squint to see them in the fading light. Half her windows were boarded up from the attack on the Sanctuary last week. It made things like seeing a tad difficult. And it made her depression and urge to sleep even worse.

He came down the hall announcing his presence with a whistling tune. Nayna curled on her side and pulled the blankets over her head. She'd been in isolation for over a week with only Negan and sometimes Carson for company. The other wives didn't even visit her. Dwight didn't visit her. And Gus...He was dead. She forgot sometimes. Until she talked to Carson. And then she remembered.

It was getting harder and harder for her to piece things together. The days seemed to go backwards and forwards and she lost big stretches of time. Sometimes she was coherent enough to read and scribble in her diary. Sometimes she even felt normal. And then sometimes she felt dreamlike and floaty. 

Carson often talked to her like a child, which only served to irritate her. She wasn't a child, she wasn't stupid. She knew she was slipping and she knew there was nothing anyone, but Negan himself could do. And he refused to let her out.

She knew why. Because he didn't want to let her go. If only he trusted her, he'd see she would stay because she loved him. Because she was a fool. He loved her in his own sick, twisted way and she loved him back the same. He caged her because he was afraid. 

Nayna thought she finally got to the bottom of Negan. That is when she could think. Under it all he was an insecure man who put on big pants every morning to hide that fact. Either he was a man who cared too much in the previous world or like the rest of them, he'd lost everything and it hit him harder than expected. And now by keeping everyone at arms length, he'd never have to experience that loss. But he didn't expect to find her. He didn't foresee her slipping into his heart. But she had and now he did the only thing he knew how. He held on as tightly as he could to ensure he didn't lose her. It was all very understandable to her. If he would only stop shutting her out. But then, she'd have to stop shutting him out. All she wanted to do was reach into his heart and pull out the man she knew was in there.

But if she had to pull it out, did it mean she loved a lie? Did she love someone who wasn't there? He was cruel and demanding and cold. Could he love? Did he love her? A single tear slipped down her nose and she hurriedly wiped it away.

She felt herself sliding away and she fought to keep herself strong, to keep herself there all the way. He was coming to see her and she didn't want to miss out. But she wanted him to go away. No, she didn't know what she truly wanted.

The door creaked open and his heavy boots thumped into the room. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he would go away. But the door shut with a snap and the thudding of his steps came closer and closer to her bed until he sat down on the edge, next to her hip.

He snorted and she heard him scrape something off the floor. Then she heard paper rattling and she realized he had picked up her copy of Gone With the Wind. He sighed and skimmed through it. In her mind she could see him shaking his head at the puddle of romantic shit that she used to entertain herself with. Even though she'd read it a handful of times since she'd gotten to the Sanctuary, every reading told her something different.

He grunted as he bent over to remove his boots. Great, he'd want to spend the night. She crunched the pillowcase in her hand as she tired not to move. He stood and she heard his jacket being unzipped and then tossed into the chair, along with his belt. 

Instead of sitting down again, he tugged the other end of the blanket and slipped his legs underneath. He shifted until he trapped her securely between his warm body and the cool surface of the wall. She shivered as his breath puffed against the nape of her neck.

He pressed a kiss to the back of her head and inhaled deeply. Her heart fluttered at the gesture and she felt confused.

The silence between them grew louder as he realized she was awake. But he said nothing, he did nothing aside from planting his hand on the upward curve of her hip. It was hard for her to keep her breaths even instead of ragged and jittery. She was just about to doze off when he shook her, gently but firmly.

“Doll...I know you're fucking awake. Stop fucking hiding.”

She sighed and looked over her shoulder at him. “What?”

“I'm looking for that fucking lively girl I fell for, dammit.”

She wanted to tell him he killed her. But she couldn't. She couldn't be so cruel. Besides, who knew if it had been he to stomp her out or if she'd done than on her own by rolling over and accepting demand after demand from him.

Nayna turned back to the wall and lay her head on her hands. “I just want to sleep.”

The ire in his voice was clear as a bell when he spoke, a little resentfully. “You always just want to fucking sleep. It's all you ever fucking do.”

“I'm lonely and there isn't anything else to do.”

He didn't respond, but she heard and felt him sigh against her skin. His hand squeezed her hip until it hurt. She almost cried out in pain, but she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Negan wasn't necessarily looking to hurt her as much as make her look at him. But she wouldn't. 

“I fucking can't just let you the fuck out.”

“You don't trust me.”

“Yes and no. I don't fucking trust my men either. I don't trust someone not to take you out of here and offer you up to fucking Rick to use against me.”

“Rick wouldn't do that.”

“You're so fucking sure.”

She sighed and rolled over to face him. He had propped himself up on one elbow and he looked down at her with a frown. But he was deep in thought, not really seeing her face. She lay her cheek on her folded arm and put her other hand on his shirt.

“I am. Because it's not Rick's style. He would never, ever do something like that. It has nothing to do with me.”

His brow furrowed further down his face to form into a scowl. She reached up and tried to smooth the lines from his face.

“Don't you fucking see, doll? I'm trying to ensure our survival. It's a dog eat dog world out the fuck there.”

She cupped his face and rubbed her thumb over the stubble of his cheek. “It doesn't have to be.”

Negan closed his eyes as if he were trying to regain his temper. “The fuck it doesn't.”

Nayna closed her eyes, searching for the words. It's as if they wouldn't stick in her brain. It took her several attempts, starting and finishing. Negan looked at her as if she were crazy. A sigh escaped her lips, blowing her bangs off her forehead. She still held his face in her palm.

After several deep breaths she tried again. “Don't you think that's what Rick is trying to do? Ensure the survival of his people? People who were my people until—no people who are still my people. You have to see this from his pers—”

“—goddammit, no! For fucks sake, Meghan.” 

She let her hand drop from his cheek. “I'm only trying to make you see Rick's side.”

His face was sullen. “Because you still love him.”

She bit her lips to hide her smile. “You have no reason to be jealous, love. There is no one else for me but you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Rick will always have a place in my heart. But you complete my heart. Even though you're a narcissistic megalomaniac with the tendency to be overly attached to your fucking baseball bat.”

His eyes narrowed, but she simply leaned forward, putting her forehead against his beating heart. She was tired. So tired. All she wanted to do was sleep. But he would probably want to fuck her. And she needed it. Not just wanted it. But she needed him inside of her. Needed him to thrust her insecurities away, to push away her tiredness, to maybe bring her back from the brink of it all.

He tangled his hand in her hair and gently tugged her so she was looking up at him. Once again he searched her face for something. Whatever it was, he must have found it for he bent down and caught her lips with his.

His right knee nudged her and she flipped on her back obediently. He climbed on top of her, laying so her body was crushed underneath him. But Nayna never minded. It gave her a certain sense of security and warmth.

That night Negan was gentle, yet firm. Every move of his was precisely calculated and yet as sweet as their first time had been. She moaned under the guidance of his big hands, his wet tongue, the rasp of his stubble on her sensitive skin. 

And in turn he groaned in her ear as she squeezed and released him, stroked him, took him in her mouth. In turn she made him whimper and cry out her name. For once he was the first to come. And she smiled in triumph at the slumbering man beside her.

Nayna lay her head on his shoulder and swirled her fingers through his chest hair.

 

He left the next morning giving her a kiss to the forehead. “I'll be back soon, doll.”

She barely looked up from her breakfast. Oatmeal. Again. “Okay, love.”

He snapped the door shut, leaving her to her own devices for the rest of the day. Which mainly included re-reading the siege of Atlanta for the thousandth time, her slipping away to stare at the wall for hours until she finally faded off into sleep.

The feeling that something wasn't right made her spring up in bed before she was even fully awake. She squinted, but it was dark aside from the light shining underneath the doorjamb. Beyond the door she heard the mumbling of voices coming closer and closer.

“If we don't do this now, we won't have a chance later,” the first voice said.

“He'd kill us if he knew,” the second voice whispered.

“He'd kill us anyway. Do you want to keep living like this, Carson? In fear? In panic?” the first voice asked.

“No, Dwight. I don't. You're right. Here,” Carson muttered.

“That's what I thought,” Dwight said.

Nayna was still squinting at the door trying to make sense of what Carson and Dwight were talking about. By then they were standing right outside her door.

Her first coherent thought was of Negan. But he wasn't there. Were they here to kill him? Or her?

She swallowed down her panic and flipped off the covers as the door rattled.

“The key sometimes sticks,” Carson said.

“No fucking shit.”

Her head darted from side to side. But there was nary a weapon to be found. Oh she could use her fists. Take down Carson for sure. But Dwight had been a soldier. And she was out of practice. Her last fight, the one with Negan, she'd be far out of practice then too. And Negan wasn't expecting her to fight back. Dwight would.

“Let me,” a third, yet familiar voice said.

The book! She stumbled to the chair and picked up Gone With the Wind. It was over a thousand pages. If she hit Dwight hard enough in the face, maybe she could take him down.

The door popped open and Nayna swung the book with all her might. It caught the man square in the face. She lifted it again about to jerk it down when she realized she'd hit neither Dwight nor Carson. But Eugene.

She gasped and dropped the book on the floor. “Oh shit!”

Eugene rose to his feet, cupping his nose and glared at her. 

She pawed at him, getting blood on her pink nightgown. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Eugene waved her off. “You are making me highly uncomfortable. Please dress yourself.”

Nayna looked over to Carson whose eyebrows were raised into his hairline and to Dwight who was shaking his head.

“Are you sure about this?” Carson hissed.

“Yeah. We're all on the same fucking side.”

Nayna looked between the three men. “What's going on?”

“Get dressed, Nayna. We're springing you and Eugene free.”

“Why is Eugene here?”

Dwight rubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck, you didn't know?”

“Kinda hard to know when I've been locked in here for six days straight.”

Dwight nodded. “Everyone has moved to Hilltop. We're taking you with us.”

Her stomach sank. “Why?”

“Trust me.”

She shook her head. “You're not using me against Negan.”

Dwight sighed. “You may be the only one who can stop this war, Nayna.”

But Eugene was shaking his head. 

She sat down on the bed and pressed her trembling hand to her forehead. She was shaking again. The thought almost made her laugh. Almost. It was all too absurd. It was all too much for her. The thoughts twisted and turned and spun so fast in her head she begun to feel faint and dizzy. Even after she closed her eyes the dizziness persisted. Her already sloppy belly rumbled and she fought to keep her dinner down.

Just stop, she commanded herself. She had to think. Had to piece it all together. She couldn't afford to break down. Not right then. She had to keep a grip on reality. Had to drag herself from the dreamworld she so longed to lose herself to. 

Dwight wouldn't hurt her. But then again neither would Negan. Neither would Rick. And they all had hurt her. She didn't know whether or not to trust Eugene either. 

“Eugene says you're still working with Rick,” Dwight said.

The laughter she'd held back burst forth. “Oh yes, I absolutely am working with Rick. Sure thing!”

“You're not?”

She looked up at a confused Dwight. “Not particularly.”

Eugene stepped forward deeper into the darkness where she couldn't quite judge his shadowed face. “You and Rick didn't plan this whole thing?”

She stared at Eugene open mouthed. “No, we fucking didn't. Rick hasn't let me plan anything for months now. Rick doesn't trust me...No one trusts me.”

Dwight reached in his pocket for his eye drops. “We're choosing to trust you right now Nayna. Trusting you to do the right thing.”

She let out a long breath of air. And she laughed and laughed, burying her face in her hands. This couldn't possibly be happening. She and Dwight wanted the same thing: peace. But they wanted it in different ways. They were at cross purposes. She didn't know if she could kill him to save Negan.

They wanted Negan dead. All of them. She just wanted him alive. She wanted so many things. Like to get back in bed and stare at the wall.

Her laughter turned into coughing sobs as she leaned her elbows on her thighs. It was Dwight who sat next to her and rubbed her back. After her sobs wore out she sat up smearing the snot from her face. She couldn't let them use her against Negan. She wouldn't. Negan may have been wrong, so, so very wrong, but that didn't mean she would let them kill Negan. She had to protect him.

She looked between the three men and furrowed her brow. “I'll go with you. But I do this my war. I end the war on my terms. All of this started on my terms and it'll end that way.”

Eugene regarded her carefully. “I will be honest, Nayna. I do not know whether I should be trusting you at this particular moment in time. Whether your allegiance lays with Alexandria or Negan, you do not seem to be in the right mental capacity to make such decisions.”

Nayna smiled wryly. “You think so? Well I'd be inclined to agree with you, Eugene. Unfortunately, now is not quite the time for me to lose my mind. I think I'll save that for when this shit is done with.”

“Fair enough.”

Dwight put his arm about her shoulders. “You're coming, then?”

“Yeah, I'm fucking coming.”


	45. Dear Diary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end guys. I'm so excited! I've got portions of the next three chapters written out and I've finished the last chapter completely. I'm thinking after next chapter (46) the last few are going to be mildly to significantly shorter. I'm so excited, I wish I could post it all today.  
> You'll notice I narrowed the chapters down to 49. I cut out a Rick chapter completely because it didn't really do anything for the story either way. And I hate writing from Rick's POV. Everything that happens in the chapter can be condensed into 46. Which, I am breaking two of my rules. One, I'm telling y'all up front it's a Nayna chapter (mostly to get you guys excited) and second, it's the second Nayna chapter in a row. Hoping it makes story sense.

**I've always hated camping and yet tonight, I don't mind it as much as I normally would. By this time tomorrow the war would be over and Negan and I would be far, far away from everything.**

**At least, that's what I hope. There is no telling what he'll do. I'm probably kidding myself if I think he'll leave the Sanctuary. But I have to try. For him. For Rick. For me. For...**

**The night is cold and I didn't bring a fucking jacket. Didn't realize I needed one. Can't start a fire, otherwise the Saviors will see. Can't go to Hilltop because that'll ruin...things.**

**From my perch in the tree I can see the Saviors camped out along the treeline opposite me. It's getting dark so I can't exactly distinguish one from another. But I'm not dumb enough to just walk into camp. I have to wait until the right moment.**

**Before we left I made Carson take me to the weapons station. I killed the guy guarding the weapons. Just one more life I've ended. But I needed my Sig and my bow. I couldn't go without them. I think even Eugene was horrified.**

**I forced them to drop me off at the treeline, before Eugene and Carson drove into the Hilltop. There was no way I was going in there. Not now. I don't want to see Rick right now. I'm not exactly angry at him but I just can't. I need to focus on...something. I can't remember...**

**I keep losing my thoughts. They slip away like bubbles. I'll start thinking about Negan or Rick and then it slips away. I could tell Eugene thought I was crazy. Maybe I am. I don't feel like I used to. I can't explain it. It's hard to focus on any one thing. Sometimes I stop and stare, trying to gather my thoughts together. It's gotten progressively worse since my last night with Negan. But I can't think like that.**

**Some days I think I'll wake up in my house, in my bed, at Quantico with all of this a crazy nightmare. But then, there would be no Negan, no Rick, no Carl, no Judith, no...**

**Now that I have some direction I feel more myself. I'm still not the same girl I used to be before I set foot in the Sanctuary. Though I feel like I'm regaining some footing, some sanity now that I have a plan. I've always had a thing for plans. I always like being prepared and dreaming. I don't think I've ever lived fully in the real world. I've always had my foot in dreamland.**

**Sometimes I think Negan is just another dream floating around in my head. Maybe I'll wake up back at the prison and Herschel and Beth will be there. Or Atlanta and I would see Shane again. Shane whose hat I left in that run down meth lab. Maybe I'll wake up in another reality where William loved me, truly loved me and not the horrible kind. I thought he loved me, but I didn't know love then. I...**

**I don't have much in the way of supplies. A days worth. Maybe less.**

**Negan wants this war to be over. He wants as little casualties as possible. At some point he has to call a truce. Not that Alexandria or Hilltop or The Kingdom would back down at this point. But if I know him as well as I think I do, that'll be my moment to act.**

**I've been repeating, repeating, repeating that in my head so I don't forget it. But I don't think I will. I don't think the fear will let me forget. I'm so afraid he's going to die. That Rick is going to die. I wish I could say I am scared of death, but at this point, I no longer know how I feel. Maybe in the moment it'll be different. Right now I need to complete my mission without being distracted.**

**And so many people who want Negan dead. Dwight, Rick, Daryl, Eugene, everyone from the Hilltop and everyone from Alexandria. And I suppose the Kingdom as well. I don't want him dead. How am I going to do this?**

**And how can I blame them for wanting him dead? How can I love someone who can be so horrible. My friends are dead because of him. And yet, they're not. I...I can't make sense of it. Because how could he do all those things? How could the man I love do that? I don't...I can't think...straight...**

**I don't even know what it is I'm going to do. This war has to be stopped, yes. I can't take losing another person I love. I can't even think about Sasha and Abraham and Morgan without my thoughts coming all jumbled. And Glenn. Every time I think about Glenn I can't breathe. It's like there is a band around my chest. So I don't think about Glenn. Or Sasha. Or Abraham. Or Morgan. All I can think about is Negan.**

**Negan can't die. I won't let him die. I'd rather die. I won't let him go. Not when I have a breath left in my body.**

 

 


	46. The Price We Pay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been my favorite chapter to write to date. I am probably just as anxious and excited as you guys, though for different reasons ;) I really hope you enjoy!

NAYNA

Rick and Negan stood there almost chest to chest. Two alpha males. Two men she loved. Or once loved or still loved. She wasn't sure anymore. She wasn't sure of anything in her life anymore. Her only goal was to protect Negan. Protect Negan from the glaring silver knife in Rick's hand. But hidden, so Negan couldn't see. Negan was too close, as always. He could never take a step back when necessary.

Negan was speaking, but she wasn't close enough to hear, so she slithered her way down from the tree. As she crept closer she heard Rick say in a loud, clear voice, “Let me put this in words you'll understand. Fuck you.”

She struggled to make sense of their words as she walked the treeline. As she got closer she could see Rick's face, bloodied, tired. Negan looked just as haggard but without the blood. She longed to go between the both of them and just hug each one close. Her best friend and her mate.

She stopped and tilted her head, the better to hear Negan who snorted.

“Fucking look. I'll let you in on a little secret. I don't fucking enjoy killing. I don't fucking particularly care to watch people die. Wait, scratch that, it was pretty fucking awesome when Nayna beat the shit out of Spencer. And you know, excluding the fucking attack on Alexandria. Which you fuckers brought upon yourselves. No, I don't fucking enjoy it and don't fucking make me do it again.”

Rick laughed outright, surprising Nayna. “Let me let you in on a little secret, Negan. You must be the stupidest person alive.”

Negan stepped back as if Rick slapped him. “What?”

Rick poked Negan in the chest with his knife free hand. “You're a stupid fuck! Look at what we could have! You know who the real winners are in this fight? The fucking dead. You want half our shit, do something productive. Make shit. Give us the shit you make. Clothes, gas, whatever. The possibilities are endless once this pointless fucking fighting is over. Don't you get the bigger fucking picture?”

Rick gestured in front of him towards the Hilltop and then behind him to the grassy expanse. Nayna ducked behind a leafy branch as Negan's eyes followed. “Look at this. We have the whole fucking world to share. If we fucking worked together, there is nothing we can't accomplish. But no, you want to have us killing each other. And you know what? The fucking dead are laughing.”

From between the branches, Nayna saw Negan roll his eyes. “What do you expect we sing songs and hold hands?”

Rick shook his head. “No. How about you stop fucking everything up for the rest of us so that we can all live? What are you fighting for? We're fighting a fucking psychopath who takes half our shit and...who took...”

Her. Rick was talking about her and he couldn't. From where she was she could see his shoulders rolling as he stood tall.

Negan lifted his hands sarcastically in the air. “This isn't even about anything but her, is it? She wanted me. She came of her own free will.”

“Only after you demanded free access to her.”

“So fucking what? I thought she was fucking hot. Do you fucking blame me? I never fucking touched her without her consent. She enjoyed it.”

Rick ran his left hand through his hair, shifting to better conceal the knife in his right. “You're just the kind of jackass who would believe that shit too. You played with her because you saw how much she wanted to be loved, you turned her against us for your own petty fucking games. Again, fuck you Negan. But Nayna's only part of the bigger issue. You fucking realize that before you came we were doing great. We were making things, doing things, being productive. Don't you see what we could have if you stopped fucking it all up? The possibilities are endless. We could build something. Something bigger and better than before.”

“What the fuck are you fucking proposing?”

“Be productive, like I said before. You want half our shit? Fine. Make us clothes or siphon gas or grow fucking food. Something, anything besides killing for fun.”

Had it been anyone else besides her standing there, they wouldn't have heard Daryl approaching. But it was Daryl that taught her how to hunt, how to track. And she was used to his sounds. He was somewhere off to the left of her, trying to slide in close. Nayna pretended not to hear him, and leaned forward, grasping the tree branch as if she were trying to hear better.

She'd missed the first part of what Negan was saying. “...goddamn it. I think you're fucking right. Fuck, this is the shit Nayna was trying to...fuck....it could work....”

Her heart swelled. Negan was finally getting it. Maybe, just maybe she could save him.

Even though she couldn't see his face she could see Rick's triumphant smile in her mind. What she could see was Rick moving his right arm. If she didn't move now, he was going to kill Negan. She couldn't let him. Even if he thought he was doing the right thing, she couldn't. Her heart squeezed painfully as she shoved her way through the brush and stumbled into the clearing. She yanked her Sig out of its holster and staggered forward, towards Rick and Negan, stopping yards away.

Her hands shook as she held up the gun. Steady, steady. Her Sig didn't have a safety and if she wasn't steady enough, if she wasn't careful enough she'd shoot the wrong man. Or she would shoot...something. She didn't want to shoot anyone. Fuck, she'd rather shoot herself.

Nayna took in a big shaky breath and raised her voice, as loud and powerful as it would go. “Stop! Both of you!”

Negan and Rick both jerked in her direction, staring at her with equally surprised faces and slightly opened mouths. She swallowed and shifted marginally to gain better footing. Again, steady, steady.

Negan's face contorted with rage. “The fuck are you doing?”

Rick only looked sad. Rick knew. He knew. He always fucking knew. Rick wasn't as blind as Negan when it came to the whole picture. Negan's glasses were rose colored. His were not. His voice sounded gentle and clear as a bell when he spoke to her. “Nayna, please.”

She cleared her throat. “Put the knife down, Rick.”

Negan's eyes slid from her face back to Rick. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

As he lunged towards Rick she instinctively fired a warning shot that flew over Negan's shoulder and lodged itself into the wall behind him.

Negan stumbled backwards “What the fuck? Did you just try to fucking shoot me?”

She winced. “No. I wanted you to stop. We need...we need to talk.”

But Negan's face was growing redder and redder. “Fucking talk? That's rich. I knew you were fucking working with Rick. I fucking called it, didn't I doll?”

She smiled. “No. I'm not. I'm not here to hurt you. Otherwise I would have let Rick stab you and then I would have shot you. I'm here to protect you, Joe.”

He squinted his eyes at her, trying to make sense of her words. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Nayna...why don't you put the gun down?” Rick said, lifting his empty hand in the air, palm up. “I promise I won't hurt him if you put the gun down.”

She gestured to his hand. “Put the knife down, Rick.”

Rick shook his head. “No. I won't. This needs to end.”

She took a tentative step forward, stopping when the dizziness overwhelmed her. 

She bent down and vomited up all the water, jerky and dandelions she'd eaten that morning. Again and again until she was just dry heaving.

No one came to her aid. No one moved. No one did anything for her but stare.

She whimpered, but stood back up, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “I don't...I can't do this anymore. I'm so tired. Don't you two understand? I'm so so very tired.”

“Jesus fuck, doll,” Negan growled and started towards her, but she raised her gun at him. He stepped back again, eyes narrowed.

“I'm okay. We just need to...we need to talk. Rick, you gotta put the knife down.”

“I don't gotta do anything, Nayna.”

She stared at him, confused. He wasn't angry, he wasn't snapping, he was just...sad. And it made her want to cry. She couldn't look at him without seeing the Rick from the department store. Couldn't see past the compassionate man who looked into the man's wallet and said that he was a person. Everyone said that Rick was dead, gone. But she knew better. Looking into his blue eyes, she saw that Rick at the surface. He'd been there all along, doing his best. Trying to get by in a crazy fucked up world. They all were.

There was a time where she longed for nothing more than his arms. For him to hold her and tell her it would be alright. For him to look at her and see her for who she was. And now that he saw her for what she really was, she felt ashamed. 

Loving Negan was wrong. Wanting to protect him was wrong. But she couldn't stop loving him, would never stop protecting him. Because as morally wrong as it was for everyone else...it was right for her. Loving anyone never felt so right as loving Negan. Giving her life for him...What was the point of living if he died? She would merely be existing. Surviving. And she would be a shell of who she was. She would be Shane, through and through. And if Negan died...she would have to kill Rick. She would have to chose between the best friend she'd ever had and the man who she finally believed loved her with everything he could.

Rick may have betrayed her, but he hadn't. He'd set her on the path to find Negan. He'd set her on the path that gave her hope and love. It was Rick who gave her everything she ever wanted, without ever intending to.

She sniffed, feeling the tears coming on. “Please put the knife down, Rick. Don't make me do this.”

“I won't put the knife down. You put your gun down.”

She straightened her arms, lifting the Sig higher. “I can't do that Rick. Please don't make me do this. Please, please, please.”

“Do what? Shoot me?”

“Please don't make me choose between the two of you. Please don't. You'll kill me on the inside. Please, I'm begging you,” her voice was breaking, was cracking as she pleaded.

Out of habit she glanced to Negan for affirmation, but she couldn't read the cold, hard expression on his face. It was as if he had removed himself entirely from the situation. There was no pain, no sadness. The only indication of anger she had was the lock of his jaw. His eyes met hers but there was nothing behind them, her Negan was entirely hidden from her.

There was a crunch of leaves and she glanced to her left, her gun never leaving Rick. “Don't come closer Daryl. I know you're there.”

“I know you know,” Daryl said and he moved forward. “And I know you're not gonna shoot Rick.”

“You don't know anything,” she cried as she sidestepped.

“Daryl,” Rick said in a calm, even voice, shaking his head ever so slightly. Daryl stopped advancing on her and watched her closely.

She could feel her face crumpling as her arms began to shake. She couldn't do this for much longer. Couldn't hold up. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep. If she could have slept her life away...But Negan. She had to make sure he was okay.

Slowly she lowered the gun with her tremoring hands. Daryl took another step to her.

“Don't,” she croaked. “Just don't touch me.”

He stopped and she saw him glance at Rick from the corner of her eye. Rick shook his head again and Daryl stood his ground. 

Stooping, Nayna buried her face in her left hand. She tried to gather her thoughts but as soon as she took hold of one it would burst through her fingers and fly away. They came in such rapid spurts her mind began to spin and her vision darkened. Neither of which was helped by the band tightening over her chest making it next to impossible to breathe.

She raked her hands over her hair and dug her nails into her scalp. Why couldn't she concentrate?

There was movement in front of her and in a flash, through the haze, somehow, someway, she was back on her feet with her gun raised at Rick.

“Nayna...”

“I told you not to move!” she hissed, spit flying everywhere.

Rick held up his hands. “I'm not moving, Nayna.”

Her gaze flickered from Rick to Negan's red face. The nothingness that had lingered on his face was replaced with rage. She could see the vein in his forehead threatening to pop out. His fists were clenched at his sides and his chest heaved up and down. But his anger wasn't aimed at Rick. It was aimed at her. Her heart contracted painfully making her gasp and making the first tear trickle down her cheek. 

She blinked back her tears and roughly dragged her bicep across her face, still holding the gun as steady as she could. 

“Joe,” she whispered. “Come away with me. Just us. We can...we can be so happy. Just you and me.”

“Have you fucking lost your ever loving mind?”

“Negan, please. Please. I love you. Please don't make me do this. I love you. Pick me. Choose me. Please.”

“The fuck are you going to do, doll? Fucking shoot Rick and be done with it.”

“Negan,” she whimpered and more tears fell from her lashes.

“Quit fucking blubbering like a fool and fucking shoot him!”

Rick gazed at her with an aching pity that she couldn't bear. She couldn't look at either one of them, so she turned her gaze on Daryl who inched his way forward until his hand was on her shoulder. She recoiled out of instinct, lowering her gun a tiny bit.

Daryl squeezed her shoulder. “C'mon, Nayna.”

She shook her head until she was dizzy again. “I can't. Please Daryl.”

“Rick...”

Rick put his left hand to his mouth and sighed. “Nayna, this isn't the way to do this.”

“Stop handling me,” she shrieked and elbowed Daryl in the collarbone. “Everyone needs to stop fucking handling me! Stop it! I am not a fucking child. Fuck all of you. I don't need your fucking pity or your anger or your fucking...manipulation. Fuck you all.”

Daryl grunted and stumbled back as he clutched his chest. Rick started forward again and Nayna jerked her Sig at him.

“Back up,” she hissed.

Rick shook his head and Nayna pointed the gun at his feet and pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed between his boots and jammed itself into the grass. 

“I'm not going to fucking tell you again. Back off.”

He backed up until he was next to Negan. He still had the knife in his hand. He wasn't going to drop it, that much was clear to her. She didn't know what to do.

“Don't make me do this. Please, Rick. Please, fucking please.”

She could feel herself slipping, slipping. Could feel her stomach contracting. She squeezed her eyes shut and gulped in several deep breaths.

“I love you, Joe. Please come. Please?”

“Put the fucking gun down, doll.”

“I can't. I can't.”

Negan moved forward and she swung the gun back to him.

“I can't let him hurt you. I can't let you hurt him. You're breaking my heart. Tearing...I fucking don't want to do this anymore. I can't do this anymore. I'm not strong...”

Neither Rick nor Negan said a word, both stared at her.

A choked sob escaped her throat. “I wish Shane and Glenn had never pulled me off that bus.”

Rick blanched and stepped forward, making her switch targets. “Nayna, no. No, no, no.”

The tone of his voice broke her and she began to sob in earnest. She hadn't been lying. At that moment, she truly wished she were dead. And gone. Then she wouldn't be here, hurting the two men who mattered most to her. She wouldn't have to chose.

Again, she lowered her gun, squatting in the grass. She had to get it together. Had to do something...had to figure out something. 

Daryl came towards her again and she cried out. “Stop it! Stop it!”

Her eyes met Ricks. It was like a lifetime flashed before her eyes. The department store. The CDC. Carl getting shot. The prison. Judith. Don't Fear the Reaper. Alexandria. His guilt. Her pain. His lips on hers. Her head on his chest. The look on his face when she lashed out at him.

Then she looked past him to Negan and she smiled. When she gazed at Negan the only thing she saw was love.

Rick sighed. “Nayna...just do what you have to do...do what's right.”

And then she saw it with a shining moment of clarity. She knew what she had to do. Nayna stood and lifted the gun again. She pulled the trigger.


	47. The Consequences We Face

DARYL

For as long as he lived, Daryl would never forget the moments after Nayna shot her gun. Everything happened in slow motion. The flash, the bang, the gun dropping to the grass. Nayna falling, falling and Daryl catching her in his arms and lowering her to the ground. He'd never forget that pale face, the shock in those dark eyes. And her screaming. Her screaming would haunt his nightmares to come.

It started off as a low, guttural moan. Slowly it grew in pitch to the equivalent of a whine. One gasp and then the shrill, ear-piercing sound made Daryl's head snap back as if he'd been slapped. He stumbled back and sat down hard, next to her knees.

She covered her face with her hands, barely muffling the shrieking. But he watched in horror as she dragged her nails down her face. He watched in horror as blood dripped from her face to the ground. He scrambled to his feet but she was quicker. She'd already started looking wildly around for her gun. With her left she reached for it as she broke the skin of her throat with her right. Daryl had to stomp on her wrist to stop her.

He let her wrist up long enough for him to drag her to a sitting position by her armpits. She allowed him to sling her around like a rag doll as he tried to maneuver her away from the chaos and yelling behind them. 

He bent close to her bloodied face. “Nayna! Nayna!”

She turned her wide eyes on him, a look that made goosebumps pop up on his arms. “Kill me. Kill me. Just fucking kill me!”

And then the screaming began again and the scratching. He tried to wrestle her hands away from her face, but she simply threw herself backwards, trying to beat her head on the ground. Daryl looked around frantically for help. Any kind of help. He didn't know what the fuck to do. All around him he heard yelling, but it was far away, funneled. All he could do was focus on Nayna bucking and screaming wildly underneath him as he tried to find someone to help.

It was Michonne who brought him the rope. It was Michonne, with tears rolling down her face who helped bind Nayna's wrists and feet together. There was nothing they could do about the screaming. They carried her towards the medical building, still wailing, albeit hoarsely.

He would never, ever forget the sobbing moans begging for him to kill her. They would haunt him for the rest of his life.

 

Daryl went to see her as soon as he was permitted. Five days. According to Dr. Carson she'd barely eaten, barely slept, barely done anything except sob. And then one day she stopped. And it was the silence that bothered the Doctor.

He'd gladly accepted Dr. Carson's request for visitors. A few years ago he would have just run from all this bullshit. He never would have given Nayna the time of day. Or anyone for that matter. But Nayna...she was family. She'd been to hell and back for them. She needed them.

She needed Rick.

He peered in the room and found Nayna propped up against several pillows, staring out the window. She'd been cuffed to the bed rails for her own safety. It hurt his heart to see Nayna, once so vibrant and full of life reduced to nothingness on a hospital bed. 

Maggie sat beside her, a copy of Gone With the Wind in her hand. Courtesy of Jesus. 

He stood in the door fingering the flower he'd picked for Nayna. He hovered awkwardly as Maggie turned a page. She looked up at Daryl and shook her head. No change.

She cleared her throat and continued on. “'But now she knew that had the necessity arisen, Melanie would have charged down those stairs and killed the Yankee—or been killed herself.'”

Daryl stood there listening to Maggie's smooth rolling accent flowing over the words of Nayna's favorite book. He smiled to himself remembering a conversation the two of them had years ago, debating the main character. Nayna hotly defended her and Daryl humored her, but he'd give anything for her to sit up and argue with him now.

After a while Maggie marked the page and closed the book. She sighed and pushed hair from Nayna's forehead, leaning down to give her a kiss. “I'll be back in a little while, okay?”

But there was no answer. Maggie didn't expect one. She stopped at the door and handed the book to Daryl. 

Her eyes fell on the flower and she smiled. “She'll like that.”

“I know,” Daryl said gruffly, looking away. He'd never been able to take thanks for his good deeds. Never wanted them.

“Dr. Carson says she's not catatonic, just not there...Says it happens sometimes. I wish Denise were here.”

Daryl swiped his nose with his wrist. “Yeah, me too.”

Maggie kissed his cheek. “I'll be back later. Going to get some food.”

He nodded and took her now vacant seat. No change in Nayna. He reached over and plunked the flower into her water glass. Not like she was drinking it anyhow. He didn't know the name of the flower. It was purple. She loved purple. 

Daryl gazed at Nayna, openly in a way that would have made her uncomfortable had she been all there. She lay there, looking so small against the wrist cuffs, against the drab white background. Her dark hair stuck out in all directions. No one had bothered to comb it. No one had really bothered to clean her up aside from the hideous self inflicted scratches on her face and arms.

They had other priorities...Daryl reached over and smoothed his hand over her hair, trying to give it some semblance of order. She didn't move, didn't flinch. There was just nothing.

He let his hand drop to the bed. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let her just disappear.

Daryl stood. “Hey!”

Nothing, no reaction. She still stared out the window blinking occasionally.

He slapped his hand on the mattress next to her thigh. “I said hey! Wake the fuck up! The fuck are you doing just sitting there? Wake up! Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

Still no reaction. Daryl wanted to cry. Instead he turned around and punched the wall. He gasped and shook his hand from the pain. 

He slouched forward against the wall, resting his forehead on it's cool surface.“Fuck! Fucking fuck! Goddammit you selfish bitch, wake up.”

Still nothing. He gathered his thoughts as he panted. There had to be something he could do. He couldn't stand being so fucking helpless. He couldn't stand not being able to help her. He slammed his fist on the wall again.

“Keep that up and you're not going to have a hand left.”

He whirled around to find her staring at him. She looked so war weary, so much older than her thirty years. But there was life behind her eyes. 

“So you can talk.”

She sighed and glanced back out the window. Her jaw clicked back and forth as if she were debating to answer him. Finally, she spoke. “I suppose I just want what I've always wanted...”

“And that is?”

She turned her head and smiled. “To be left alone. That is all.”

“Not to die?”

She closed her eyes. “I don't know. Yes. No.”

It was better than her demanding that he kill her. He regarded her for a moment. As much as he wanted to walk out, she needed someone. She fucking needed Rick. But it was Daryl who was there and not Rick.

He sat on her bed and slipped his hand into hers.

Her eyes fluttered open and she furrowed her brow.

“I shouldn't ask...”

“Just ask,” Daryl grunted.

Nayna pressed her lips together, the first sign of her losing her cool. When she spoke, her voice betrayed her. “Is he alive? Did I miss?”

“Yes, but he hasn't woken up yet. You hit him in the shoulder. He hit his head when he fell. He has a mild concussion.”

“So I didn't miss,” Nayna mumbled and turned her face away. A tear dribbled down her cheek. Daryl didn't know what to do. He wanted to go yell at Rick, he wanted to hug Nayna but he knew neither of them would allow those things.

“Hey, if you need to cry, I won't stop you,” Daryl said, cupping her face in his palm.

“It's not that...Just...What would Shane say to all this fuckery? I can't believe this is my life anymore. I don't know who I am anymore. Look at what I've done. I shot the man who I love more than anything in the world for a man who won't take the time of day to see me.”

“You saved a lot of lives, Nayna.”

She sneered. “Do what's right, Nayna. That's right. That's all I'm ever good for. Fuck my heart. Fuck everything else. Do what's fucking right.”

And she began to cry in earnest. Daryl stroked her hair back as she sobbed.

“Who does that? What kind of person shoots their own fucking husband? I never thought I would do that in a million fucking years. It's like I'm not even me anymore. Who am I? What am I? What kind of person am I?”

Daryl squeezed her hand. He'd never been good at this shit, but Nayna needed someone. “Your name is Nayna--”

“--it's not. It's Meghan.”

“Your name is Nayna,” he said in a firm voice. “You suck on your tongue when you're deep in thought or when you sleep. You love flowers and animals. I've seen you rescue animals we should have eaten. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You are selfless and reflective. You hate the rain. You love to sing and dance. Your favorite food is a toss up between cheeseburgers and spaghetti. Your favorite color is purple and you love lame dad jokes. You're the fucking worst cook I've ever met in my life. I think I die a little inside every time I have to eat your food.”

By then she had a small smile on her face, but her eyes were far away. “I'm so broken Daryl.”

“Look, Rick--”

“--it doesn't matter. He won't come. If he hasn't come by now he won't.”

“He loves you Nayna. He needs you. You need him.”

“No. What I need is so different. I need to learn to love me. I don't need another man. I'm too broken for it. I need to piece myself back together.”

Daryl tucked her hair behind her ear. “I didn't mean it like that.”

She cleared her throat and took in a shaky breath. “I know, I know. It's not like that between us.”

Nayna turned her head to stare out the window. Daryl stroked her cuffed hand.

“I've lost track of the days,” she rasped. “I've never been very good about keeping up with them anyway. How long have I been here?”

“Five days,” he said. The hurt crossed her face and then left it.

She looked down. “He hasn't come to see me.”

“I'm sorry,” Daryl snapped. He felt helpless. Anger was better than helplessness. And they'd already gone over this.

She shook her head. “Don't be. It's how...it's what he's become now. It is what it is.”

Daryl snorted. “You really believe that or are you just telling yourself that?”

“Both.”

Daryl didn't have an answer for that.

 

He went to see Rick next with a burning anger he felt deep in his heart. He was sitting at his desk, flipping through papers and plans from Eugene. Rick glanced up and smiled a little when Daryl barged in.

“Hey, Daryl,” Rick said, rubbing a hand over his haggard, unshaven face.

“You haven't gone to see her.”

Rick looked down at his hands. “No. I haven't. I can't...”

“Bullshit. Fuck you Rick. At least make them take the fucking cuffs off her! She's just getting worse there,” Daryl snarled.

Rick threw his hands in the air. “What do you want me to do? She nearly fucking killed herself back there. I'm trying to protect her from herself.”

“You're not making her any better, goddammit. Why the fuck haven't you gone to see her?”

“I can't.”

Daryl slammed his hand down on the desk sending papers flying. “Bullshit. Go see her, make plans, help her get better. She fucking needs you now Rick. More than ever.”

“Daryl, I can't.”

“Why the fuck not? She fucking saved your life out there. She fucking shot her husband for you. She loved him and she fucking shot him and ended all of this. And you can't go see her.”

Rick closed his eyes. “She doesn't want me.”

“Fuck you, Rick. She needs you. She doesn't need you as her lover. She needs her best fucking friend Rick. She's looking for her best friend right now.”

Rick glared at Daryl. “I can't fucking see her like that! Look what I did to her. I fucking broke her. This is my fucking fault!”

Daryl poked Rick's shoulder. “Then be a fucking man and own up to it. Admit it to her, throw yourself on her mercy. And she will fucking forgive you because she's Nayna and because she loves you. I don't fucking know why, but she still fucking loves you and she's been waiting for you.”

Rick rubbed his hands over his face.

Daryl stood over him and then started kicking him. “Get out of the fucking chair. Stop being a fucking pussy and get up and go see her.”

“Fuck off Daryl,” Rick snapped and shoved him away. 

Daryl took three steps back and shook his head. “You're not the man I thought you were. You're a fucking coward. I never thought I'd see the day where Rick Grimes was a fucking cowardly pussy. You don't fucking deserve her.”

“She deserves better.”

“Some fucking friend you are,” Daryl's voice was cold before he left Rick to his thoughts.


	48. The Damage We Do

NAYNA

She swept her hair back into a ponytail, twisting the tie around her hair as tight as possible. She did everything as tight and hard as possible, as if the pain would wake her up from the horrifying dream she now occupied.

But she didn't wake, and she was suspended in time, waiting, always waiting on Rick. But now she was tired of waiting, tired of asking for permission and tired of...tired of living in general. Life had lost its charm, it's glitter, and now the canvas was colored a dull, uninspiring gray. She had nothing left to live for.

But the fluttering in her belly told her otherwise, and she splayed her palms on the slightly curved sides of her stomach. She'd needed a reason to go on, and that was as good as any. Though, she couldn't say she wanted it. When she blinked, a tear dropped on her breast onto her belly, sliding down between her hands. Maybe, just maybe the ache in her heart would leave.

Up till then she hadn't given the baby much thought. Hadn't wanted it. Didn't have the energy to think about it. About anything other than Negan and the war. How she hadn't lost it from stress alone, she would never know. And now, what was she going to do?

Abortion wasn't an option. Not because it didn't fit in with her moral code, but because Dr. Carson flat out refused. They didn't have the drugs to induce it, and he told her he'd rather use the limited supplies they had on saving the wounded, not...And he'd countered, when she told him she'd find the drugs, that she was just as likely to bleed to death. Which would have been fine with her. But she was smart enough to keep that to herself. She didn't want to go back in those cuffs. Didn't want to stay in the hospital for another moment longer than she had to.

She sat back down on the bed, pulling the hospital gown closed as a sudden fall chill swept over her. Staying in the medical building was no longer an option. Dr. Carson had deemed her stable enough to move into the house, as long as she roomed with someone. Daryl was of course annoyed, but he obliged her since Rick wouldn't...

Nayna quickly stuffed herself into her clothes, silently griping at the ill fitting bra and the pants that wouldn't button. They buttoned just fine the night before she...

She counted to ten and reminded herself that she didn't have to think about it. Not if she didn't want to. She thumped back on the bed and started to count the tiles on the floor. It was all too much. The baby, Negan's baby, Rick's inattentiveness, her loneliness, and what she did to the man she loved...She was a terrible person. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she were trying to close it all out. But that never worked for very long. The only thing that ever worked was to keep on keepin' on. That's what she used to say to Rick before...

It took her twenty minutes to come back to the present. Gathering her stuff, she silently slid out of the room and down the hall, past several closed doors. 

Ahead, Dr. Carson slipped out of one of the rooms with his team by his side. Nayna lowered her head as they strolled past her, paying her no heed.

“...Rick says as soon as he's completely stable, they'll move him to Alexandria...they have a place...” 

Dr. Carson's voice faded as they rounded the corner, and Nayna frowned in the direction of the lone room. Negan's room. God, she wanted to see him. Wanted to lay in his arms and tell him about the baby, about her fears. Wanted to tell him that Rick was still hurting her...

He'd left the door slightly ajar and Nayna pushed it open, peering in and catching a glimpse of Negan. Her heart sank at the sight of him. The virile man, once full of life and malice lay pale and still on the bed. If his chest hadn't been rising and falling, she would have taken him for a corpse. And she did this to him. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth and swallowed several times. Her Negan...

Nayna turned and closed the door silently, taking in several deep breaths. She knew she shouldn't, but she had to. He would hate her, curse her, but she had to see for herself. Her heart hammered as she crept over to him, leaning over the sickbed. Her fingers stroked along his stubbled cheek. She gazed down on the face she used to kiss and nuzzle. Nayna brushed back the little wisps of hair that rested across his forehead. Just as she pulled back he reached up and his fingers curled weakly around her wrist. His eyes flickered open.

Her heart jumped. He was okay.

A small smile appeared on her face. “Hi.”

“You fucking shot me,” he rasped.

Nayna perched herself on the edge of his bed, wriggling her fingers into his shackled hand. “I know. I'm sorry.”

“I shouldn't have trusted you.”

She sighed and shook her head.

His grip tightened around her wrist, but it was still weak. “I should ask why, but does it fucking matter? Probably not.”

Nayna shrugged, laying her hand on his chest. “You wouldn't believe me.”

He let go of her wrist and rubbed a hand over his face.“Probably not.”

She smiled wryly and looked into his haggard, gray face. “I did it because I love you.”

“That's some fucking token of love right there. The fuck are you, a black widow spider?”

He was still her Negan, if he could joke and tease her. She hadn't lost him after all.

Nayna snorted. “You won't catch me dancing on your grave, Joe. I am a damn good shot. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. Instead, I shot you in the shoulder, so you would live.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “That makes no fuckin sense, doll.”

“I know you don't understand Rick, but I thought you understood me. And I know you and Rick came to some kind of agreement at the end there. I saw it on your face. But I know how Rick's mind works. He had that knife, and I was afraid he was going to kill you. Even if I put the gun down. So I did what I thought I had to do. You might not agree with it, but one day, you'll thank me. Because I gave you the chance Rick never would have. Rick would have relied on your men to save you, and this way--”

“--you get all the fucking credit.”

Nayna's eyes flicked over to the bloodied bandage on his shoulder. “I don't care about the credit. I care about you. You might not believe it.”

Negan shook his head and looked away. “Can you fucking answer me one thing?”

She put his hand on her belly, wondering if he could feel the fluttering inside. “Anything, my love.”

Seemingly out of habit his thumb stroked back and forth. “Was any of this...was it ever fucking real to you?”

Stung, she jerked back. But she wasn't surprised. Who would be a bundle of love and happiness after their lover shot them? She was hurt, but she understood.

She bent down to caress his cheek. “That's what I've been trying to tell you. I told you once before, I was just trying to survive and then I began to see the real you and I love the real you. The insecure asshole underneath. I love him. Because I am him. And you are me. Because we are birds of a feather, Joe.”

His brows twitched and he pressed his lips together but he refused to look at her. She kept grazing her fingers over the stubble on his cheek. 

She took in a shaky breath. “Was it ever real for you?”

“Eventually. But, doll, you kind of fucking killed anything I felt for you when you fucking chose Rick over me. When you fucking shot me. You fucking shot me! You fucking betrayed me and...”

His fingers tightened on her belly and Nayna quickly pried them off, throwing his hand down on the bed. “I didn't fucking chose Rick over you. If I had I would have killed you first chance I got. Goddammit. You don't get it. You...I love you. I do! I love Rick too. Rick is my best friend. But you are my mate. Do you realize the choice the two of you put me through? By shooting you, I chose you. I chose you to live. If only you had listened...Don't you see what you did to me? I'm only a shadow of who I used to be. That lively girl you fell for? You fucking killed me. If you had listened to me from day one, we could have done what Rick proposed. And then it would have been you and me. Together, at the Sanctuary. Do you know what we could have been? I loved you as much as any woman ever loved a man. Deeply, wholly. Knowing who you are. Knowing what you are. I became your wife because I wanted to, not because I felt like I had to. And Rick...he would have been happy for me. Up until you came along I had no one but him. And you came between us. It didn't even matter what the feelings were between us. But what you fail to realize is that there is a bond between Rick and myself. One that can't be severed by marriage or even death. I've been with him since the beginning. We grew up in this world, together. We fought side by side, lost people we loved, I delivered his child. He saved me from the biggest enemy of all, Negan. He saved me from myself.”

She stood, fueled on by her righteous anger. “And you have no room to talk about betrayal, Joseph Negan. You fucking killed my people. Abraham. Glenn...You know, Glenn? He fucking saved my life. He pulled me off the bus that...And then you killed Sasha and used her against my people. And Morgan! I've never known a kinder soul than Morgan. And captured Eugene. And you kept it all hidden from me. I'd rather you fucking shot me! It would have fucking hurt less, you insensitive asshole bastard fucktruck!”

She stopped when she noticed him laughing at her. “What?”

He groaned, but continued to laugh. “You are the most fucked up person I have ever known, Meghan. You're even more fucked up than I am. And that's saying something. Rick throws you to the wolves. Gives you up. Betrays you. And you still care about him. Fucked up, doll. And then you shoot me and my feelings for you are gone, I kill some of your people and yet you still fucking love me. How fucking stupid are you?”

She backed up to the door, grasping the frame as she stared at his snickering form. It didn't hurt her because he was wrong. His words cut her to the bone, because they were right. All of a sudden she was sick and she was dizzy. She was so hurt she couldn't even cry. 

“Need a fucking tissue, doll?”

Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “Go to hell.”

She yanked the door open and Negan called behind. “Life isn't a fucking book or a fucking fairy tale, doll. Get your fucking head out of the clouds. You're so blind you'll accept anything that says I love you....You horrible, desperate, fucked up girl.”

And she fled the room, half blinded by her own grief. She kept her head down, rushing past everyone outside. Most people stopped to stare, but she barreled past, up to the main house. 

She pushed her way into Daryl's room and shut the door behind her. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she slid down the wall. There was nothing left for her. No Negan. No Rick. Nothing. For the first time in her life she was utterly alone. And she didn't know what to do. She rubbed her hands over her face. The tears smeared across her cheeks.

She felt strangely empty. Devoid of anything real. She couldn't muster up love for Negan or affection for Rick. When she looked in her heart all she saw were plains of empty, barren fields. 

She was tired of waiting. He wouldn’t see her. But he would regret it. And so would she. No matter what Rick still meant half the world to her. She had told Negan the truth. There was a bond between them that nothing could sever. Rick had known she wouldn’t shoot him. He had known she would find a way to end it. He had unwavering faith in her. That’s why he sent her on this journey. Because he knew she would come out okay on the other end. 

She wasn’t okay yet. But she would be. There was nothingness now, but she knew that it wouldn't always be so. 

For the first time in a long time, Nayna felt like she was seeing clearly. 

Rick always felt lost without her but he had the strength to lead even when she wasn’t there. Her own faith in him was unyielding. He wasn’t coming to her because he didn’t want to. It was because he couldn’t. He was just as broken as she. 

When she thought of Rick, she thought of her partner in crime, her other half, the one who understood her. And he had understood her till the very end. 

She loved two men and had put them both ahead of herself. Now it was time to heal and forgive herself and put herself first. And then maybe one day she could be whole again. And maybe one day she and Rick would be able to put it all behind them.

Nayna pushed herself up and went to the window. She could see for miles, it felt like. She could see over the walls, into the forest. The sky, clear as a bell for a fall day. She could see so much. She could see peace beyond the walls. A smile formed on her lips, a little sad, as she realized what she needed.

She scuffled over to her bag on the floor and pulled out the picture of Rick and everyone from the prison. Beth. Hershel. Tyreese. Sasha. Glenn. She pressed it to her heart and closed her eyes, imagining herself back there with them.

Even here, at Hilltop, there were too many memories. Too many reminders of them. Too many reminders of Abraham and Morgan. Of all they'd lost. Of everything she'd lost. She couldn't walk these halls everyday and be reminded. She just couldn't. She couldn't go back to Alexandria. There was nothing there for her. 

She was so broken. And there was only one way for her to fix it.

It hurt. But it was right. One day, Rick would understand. He would hurt and cry, but he'd accept it and move on.

Her eyes wandered to the desk, to the paper and pencil haphazardly strewn across its surface. Another smile hinted on her lips as she sat at the desk. She picked up the pencil and began to write.


	49. Epilogue

 

 

A frank smile. A soft whisper. Daring eyes. A giggle that echoed in the deep recesses of his mind, rebounding out from his lips. The only things he had left of her. The memories.

He would have liked to see her happy. Truly happy and laughing her sweet, sweet laugh. She'd almost been there at the prison. He saw the sparks, the charge. But it never caught because the Governor broke down their fence.

The mask slid back into place in Alexandria and she'd kept him at arms length. Protecting herself. But she'd only needed to protect herself from him. He'd broken her. The sweet, high-spirited girl of his dreams. She was broken and it was his fault.

There wasn't a moment in the day that he didn't think of the girl with the bright, round face. There wasn't a moment where he didn't regret what he'd done to her.

He never knew it before, but Daryl alluded to the fact that her life before the apocalypse wasn't exactly wonderful either. He never knew she'd been teetering on the edge of divorce. How lonely she'd been. And then she'd found Shane. And they got each other. In a way that made Rick jealous. Shane had been cruel and hard and he'd seen the world as it was long before any of them. And Nayna was hard headed and pragmatic, and she'd seen the truth in Shane's face. And then he'd stabbed Shane.

Every shot of happiness Nayna sought out, he'd killed. Happiness with him? She'd never had a shot because he was stupid and he took the one woman, the one constant in his life, for granted. And he'd lost her. All he had a was a fucking picture of her and the memories that had not yet faded.

A beautiful picture of her. Glenn had been fucking around with the Polaroid that day and he'd caught Nayna sitting on the hill in front of the prison, knees to her chest, cheek against her arm with that far off look in her eyes. Her bangs tumbled into her sunburned face, and her clothes were dirty from hard work. That picture captured her, as she truly was. Not what she tried to be. Who she was.

Rick couldn't bear to open the letter in his lap. If he opened the letter, she would be gone forever. If he didn't, then she would always be around the corner, watching, waiting. Just like she always had been. If he didn't open the letter she would always be with him. She wouldn't be lost to him. She wouldn't be gone.

He stroked his fingers over the lines and curves of his name. Her handwriting was shit. Had always been shit. Her brain moved fast and her hand often struggled to keep up. If he closed his eyes he could see her there, at the desk, chewing on her lip, bouncing her knee up and down and up and down, scrawling as fast as she could.

But he couldn't not open the letter. Try as he might to hold on to her, he knew she would tut and frown at him, her better nature winning over her dreamy ideals. So he turned the letter over and skimmed his finger under the flap, tearing it open.

 

_Rick,_

_So lately, been wondering_  
Who will be there to take my place  
When I'm gone, you'll need love  
To light the shadows on your face

 _If a great wave shall fall_  
It'd fall upon us all  
And between the sand and stone  
Could you make it on your own?

 _If I could, then I would_  
I'll go wherever you will go  
Way up high or down low  
I'll go wherever you will go

 _And maybe, I'll find out_  
The way to make it back someday  
To watch you, to guide you  
Through the darkest of your days

 _If a great wave shall fall_  
It'd fall upon us all  
Well I hope there's someone out there  
Who can bring me back to you

 _If I could, then I would_  
I'll go wherever you will go  
Way up high or down low  
I'll go wherever you will go

 _Run away with my heart_  
Run away with my hope  
Run away with my love

 _I know now, just quite how_  
My life and love might still go on  
In your heart, in your mind  
I'll stay with you for all of time

 _If I could turn back time_  
I'll go wherever you will go  
If I could make you mine  
I'll go wherever you will go

 _I'll go wherever you will go_  


_I love him...but I love you more._  


_Your Nayna_

 

Daryl found him on the floor, his head cradled in his hand, tears slipping down his face. The letter lay abandoned on the floor as Rick tried to piece his shattered heart back together.

“I told you to go see her.”  
  
Rick rubbed his hand over his face, scraping the tears away. He couldn't meet Daryl's eyes “I know.”  
  
Daryl leaned against the door frame, hands in his pockets, staring at the opposite wall. “Now what?”  
  
Rick looked up at him and squared his jaw. “Bring our girl home.”  
  
~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you.  
> I want to start off by saying I realize this is NOT the happy ending that many of you wished for. I understand some of the reactions. I don't blame you. I never set out to write a happy story. For me, some of the best stories written did not have happy endings. However, Nayna's journey is not ending here. I have plans to write a sequel based on the Whisperers storyline from the comics. So in the end there may yet be happiness for Nayna, Rick, Negan and baby Negan.  
> I know many of you may be confused about the letter, but bear with me and trust me when I say it'll be explained in the sequel. And make a notation that love can mean anything, not just romantic love.  
> I know I've asked before, but if there is enough interest in a prequel (for seasons 1-6) with Nayna I would be more than happy to write it.  
> And now for the thank yous. Thank you to those of you who have been here since the beginning. Those of you who have toughed it out with me even if you didn't like where the story was going. Thank you for those of you who have come in the middle and stuck it through. Thank you to anyone who has finished this. Every comment, kudos, subscription, bookmark means so much to me. Over the course of this story I've lost many followers, I've torn my hair out wondering what's gone wrong, what I could have done different. As an artist you want people to love your work as much as you do and it often hurts when that's not the case. However, it's been a great learning experience that I just couldn't have done without you guys. This has helped build my self-confidence as a writer, has made me a better writer, a better storyteller and has given me thicker skin. And for that, I thank each and everyone.  
> I also need to give a shout out to my very good friend Hurricanerin. I could not have done this without you. I could not have finished without you and our late late night chats, my constant overworrying and your reassurance. Everyone needs a shoulder to lean on when they're writing and you have been mine. You are amazing. Thank you. And please, please everyone go read her stuff. It's awesome.  
> In the weeks to come I'll be writing the sequel, working on When Worlds Collide and perhaps I'll eventually finish Moonborn. I keep saying I'm going to take time off, but I'm addicted to writing, so it may not last very long.  
> Anyway, a big loving thanks to everyone here. In the meantime, please check out my happier AU fic, When Worlds Collide featuring Nayna and Negan.
> 
> Much love,
> 
> LadyCav <3


	50. The Chapter That Doesn't Exist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time the author decided to release a non-chapter update that probably isn't kosher.

I feel a tad silly; I'm not sure where to start. I know some people have been worried that I have abandoned my stories, which is untrue. As I've stated before, I've simply put them on hold for now while I work out things in my personal life. Stuff like school, my son, a few of my animals being 'sick', one of my best friends having a baby and needing help, along with my deployed husband are the main reasons why I've stopped updating. Two of my classes will end in a few weeks, which will give me tons of time.

Part of the reason I haven't been writing as much for pleasure is due to the novel writing class I'm taking. Most of my writing fervor goes into the novel with a minute amount leftover for other things. One of those things is re-writing TPWP. I love this story so much. It means so much to me that you all stuck by it and I was able to complete it. I look back at some of my writing and cringe. I look back at some of the decisions Rick and Nayna made that were out of character and cringe. I've learned a lot from writing this story, it's been an amazing adventure. Now, I need to learn how to tie up loose ends, steer the characters in the correct direction without losing their essence and how to polish my prose. Because I love this story so much, I want to rewrite it. I feel I owe it to Nayna and Negan and Rick to tell the best version of this story as possible. 

Back when I began TPWP I wasn't editing, I was merely pounding out the story as fast and hard as I could in order to finish it. Now it's time for me to fix it. Which brings me to my plan.

I will be retiring this version of TPWP in early November. But, beginning the week before the premiere I will be rereleasing chapters on a weekly basis as I edit them. Currently, chapters one and two are finished and three is on its way; and I'm quite pleased with the result. I warn all of you, the story has evolved. Things will not be the same. Many of the chapters will be cut. Many things that happen will change. But it's because I've learned what works and what doesn't. I know where I want the story to go and I know what needs to happen and what shouldn't happen. However, this will be a Negan and Nayna love story as originally planned. It won't be pretty, it won't be easy, but I'm determined to write my wrongs (see what I did there? Okay, not that funny, but still). 

Is there anything you guys want to see in the new version? I'm more than willing to take anyone's advice/opinions/desires into consideration.

Thank you guys. I love you all.


End file.
